Tainted Soul
by Cremrock
Summary: What's this? A story I'm writing without Dende in it! Yep... At any rate, this is a story that has Piccolo losing his mind... I started writing this awhile ago too, and it's still not close to being done... ; It's also quite a bit more violent tha
1. Tainted Soul Chapter 1

Tainted Soul 1

**Tainted Soul **

**Chapter 1: The nightmare begins.**

**By Cremrock**

Writer's note: This story takes place during the time after Nameksei's explosion and after the Nameksei-jin have wished to go to a new planet. Thus, Son Goku is currently away, Vegeta is still in space searching for him, Tenshinhan and co. are all alive… etc. etc. Since there isn't really too much of an explanation as for the time of the Garlic Jr. Saga, this story takes place before it.

**Warning: This chapter is quite violent, and may not be suitable for younger readers... **

A nine year old Son Gohan, clad in an orange shirt and blue suspenders; skipped happily along the weathered, dusty mountain path; humming a gentle tune; while the path seemed to almost sparkle in the fading sunlight. Besides him followed his trusted friend and companion, the Haiyaa Dragon- The lavender colored, chubby little winged creature was adorned with a long green ribbon and a bell that Gohan had found somewhere. It would squeal now and again as it would stop to admire the lush greenery around them before realizing that Gohan had already skipped along another couple of meters. The duo was about three miles away from Gohan's home, and rather then fly, which wouldn't have really enabled them to admire the forested beauty that aligned the path, (Not to mention putting undue strain on the Haiyaa Dragon's wings,) the child had boldly proclaimed that they would walk.

Granted, it might get dark, and Gohan's overprotective mother, Chi-chi, might get a little angry, but there are some things in life worth getting in trouble for, and besides, she wouldn't stay angry for long. Silently, a pair of eyes watched the two of them from among the treetops, stealthily following them.

It wouldn't be very fun for that kid if he knew I was following him like this." Piccolo, warrior _and_ demon-king, silently chided himself from his position among the trees as he observed quite possibly the only person he truly considered a friend, Son Gohan, skip along the path. He allowed himself a slight smirk as he realized that the child was humming instead of whistling, as if he expected his mentor might be nearby. A moment later, to Piccolo's surprise, Son Gohan stopped and glanced all around a moment. He meandered off the road and peeked into a nearby bush. _"What's that kid doing now… oh, that pet of his isn't beside him anymore… the thing probably just went off to get something to eat…" _Piccolo concluded. He was tempted to leap down from the treetops and surprise the child, certain he would receive an enthusiastic, "Piccolo-san!" But ultimately decided he'd only be keeping the kid from getting home quicker. _"Take care of yourself kid… I'll be around if you need me." _He thought, and sneaked away as Gohan continued looking for his friend.

Piccolo found he was standing still a scant half a mile away, face frozen in an expression of appreciation. The beauty of the sun slowly dipping over the horizon was entrancing him. It was the same sunset he saw almost every day, but it never changed the fact that it was one of the most beautiful things he ever got to witness, one of the bright spots in his normally drab daily routine of meditating, training, and the occasional visit from Gohan. Slowly, the intricate dance between red-hot orb, burning sky, and sparkling mountains subsided, as the darkness of nighttime began to overtake the sky. A slight breeze whistled around him, lifting his large white cape off the ground and ruffling it slightly along his back. He sniffed the air. Though Nameksei-jin didn't have any better a sense of smell then a normal human did, Piccolo had learned to pick up a few things, notably because he had lived nearly his entire life in the wilderness.

The smell startled him. It was the smell of decay. He sniffed again. _"A fresh kill, whatever did it. A shame, now I'm going to have to smell it the entire night. Either that or find whatever's stinking up the place and destroy or bury it." _He sighed. At least it would give him something to do besides meditating. He didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even to himself, but he, Piccolo, the person who didn't need anybody, was bored. He turned away from the cliff he had been standing on and walked into the woods, intent on finding the source of the offending odor. After a few moments of walking and trying to determine where the smell was the strongest, a trail of broken branches and trampled underbrush practically leaped out at him from the left. "_Must have been some kind of chase… ever odder, since the predators aren't very active at night…" _As Piccolo was sure he would inevitably find, a faint trail of dried blood further defined the path, as the branches and underbrush became even more ragged and trampled as before. _"Of course, the prey must've been panicked at this point…"_ What began to surprise Piccolo was that the blood trail didn't just continue, it began to grow wider and wider, as if rather then finish it's prey, the hunter had just continued to open more wounds. As if to reflect this change, though it was clear the creature had been fighting for it's life, judging by the broken branches, they appeared less frequent… clearly this creature had been getting weaker. He saw something on the ground ahead of him, covered with dry yet still slightly sticky blood. He kneeled to examine it. It was a wing. A _purple _wing about the size of his two hands put together. _"It's more reptilian then a bird wing, but it's not large enough to be a dinosaur… a baby? I've seen wings like these before, on…"_

Piccolo suddenly became aware that there was a shadow playing over him in the faint moonlight… a moment later, he felt a small drop of oddly lukewarm liquid touch the back of his neck. It was then he gazed up at the treetops above, and for one of the few times in his life, he gasped in disgust at the sight of what he saw. For it sickened even one as battle hardened as he. Hanging above him, with one wing severed, an eye that had apparently been gashed; with a small dribble of vitreous fluid oozing out even now; entrails and ribs easily visible through a large hole in it's side, the jaw/beak snapped and twisted, was a dead Haiyaa dragon. Piccolo scowled at the horrible display. Such mutilation could only be done by a being that was intelligent, as nothing that killed for food would do such a thing… or have the appendages to leave it hanging in a tree once the vile defecation had been done.

"A very cruelly thinking intelligent person, at that." Piccolo thought, eyes locked on the intact eye of the dragon, that even in death was frozen in a display of horror, a permanent window into the land of the dead. He reached up to cut the creature down from it's tresses, and gasped in shock again as he realized what the creature was hanging from. It was a ribbon. A bloodstained, _green_ ribbon. With a bell on the bottom for good measure. He stared at it in horror for several moments, the reality of it slowly sinking in. He scarcely heard the wet thump of it crashing to the ground as he cut the ribbon. He was still staring in disgust and anger. That was when he noticed that the darkened cliff nearby seemed to be oozing some kind of liquid, and he made a small ball of ki and held it up to the cliff. There were three words, written in crimson lettering. Piccolo didn't need to guess what type of ink the letters were really made out of.

"You failed me." He said out loud, reading the letters and cupping a hand to his chin to ponder this evil deed. He looked over his shoulder at the poor dragon yet again, and let his hands fall to his sides before tightening them into fists. It seemed this horrible spectacle could only be meant for one person. Son Gohan.

"Gohan… I'll find out who did this and make them pay… for this needless killing, and for the sadness I know you are going to feel when you find out about this…" He knelt down next to the dragon, hoping to find clues. He was very glad Gohan wasn't here right now. He didn't know the dragon or have much, if any, attachment to it, but he knew it truly brightened the life of his student. Or rather, _had_. He was just about to summon forth a ki blast to give it a proper burial when a single sound erupted from somewhere fairly far away.

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!…."

The sound snapped him out of his thoughts and sent him hurtling into the air. Because he recognized that scream, even pain-filled and as far away as it was. It was Son Gohan. He glanced around frantically, looking for smoke, sensing for ki, craters, glints of light, and any sign that would hint about the whereabouts of the child.

"Where is he?! I can't even sense his ki!" Piccolo's panicked thoughts pounded into his head, even as he continued scanning the landscape, more slowly now, so that his well trained eyes could pick out any detail that could hint to his student's location.

"GOHAN! WHERE ARE YOU?!" He bellowed. He knew that such a scream would kill any chance of surprising whoever or whatever might be harming the child, but the scream had sounded desperate… he could deal with a straight-out fight… he couldn't deal with his friend's death. Uttering a curse as no reply was heard but an echo, he clenched his eyes shut and concentrated. If there weren't any easily detectable large ki's around, perhaps Gohan's was among the small ones. He willed himself to concentrate, and then… _"There!"_

Not surprisingly, power flashed all around him, and a moment later Piccolo was hurtling through the air as fast as his ki could carry him to the spot where he had felt a decidedly less then human ki.

As the scorched earth below him crackled from the weight of his two feet landing, Piccolo was already surveying the area rapidly, on alert.

"Gohan! Where are you?" He shrieked. There was no answer, save for the chirping of cicadas and the normal nightly sounds, which resumed a moment after Piccolo's scream. Piccolo was truly beginning to worry. He'd always taken it for granted that he'd be around Gohan and be able to keep him from harm…

"Dammit, why'd I have to watch that sunset…I should have stayed closer to him!" Piccolo chided himself. That was when Piccolo heard a slight rustling sound and spun around, his eyes widening at what he saw. Lying curled up into a ball, next to a small; blackened crater; presumably a fire pit, was Gohan, his back towards his mentor. He looked as if he was sleeping. Piccolo instantly felt relieved.

"He must've gotten lost and fallen asleep out here… doesn't explain the scream… maybe he had a nightmare? At any rate, I'd better get you home, kid… I'll tell you about the dragon later…" Piccolo muttered softly. He bent down over Gohan, to get a better look at him, and as the moonlight played off his face he…

…let loose a nerve shattering scream that conveyed all sorts of emotions, rage, injustice, sorrow, hatred, but most of all… grief. The child was seemingly staring up at him, a bewildered expression permanently etched on his face, but Piccolo knew from his eyes and the odd angle of his neck that he wasn't staring at anything, now. Overcome, Piccolo fell to his knees and began weeping softly for the first time in his life, as he cradled the child to his chest, eyes streaming tears.

"G…Gohan…" Was the only word he managed to croak, his entire resolve and world flipped completely upside down with one realization. Son Gohan was dead. In the awful silence save for his own sobbing, the child's head lolled loosely downwards.

"I've… failed… I… I said I'd always take care of him… G…Gohan… my only real… friend."

A moment later, a faint, oddly familiar chuckle echoed from the treetops above. Piccolo gazed up at the origination of the sound and swallowed quickly, trying unsuccessfully to mask his emotion, as he laid the child's body gently to the ground, attempting to steal himself for a confrontation. No one would chuckle at the death of a child and be in such close vicinity, unless they had done it themselves.

"Am… am I to assume that… you're the… monster that… did this?" Piccolo stammered, trying to work up his rage, but in reality his heart was completely shattered. The figure in the treetops; Piccolo still hadn't been able to see his face; nodded, and Piccolo saw the glint of moonlight off of a shiny, toothy grin. It was the most difficult thing for him to do in the world, but oddly enough, Piccolo smiled a very thin lipped smile even as he shuddered again, fighting the urge to grieve in front of this new opponent. "G…good… I was hoping to tear my student's killer apart with my bare hands…"

The figure laughed coldly at the reference to himself and leapt down to the ground, and Piccolo choked in disbelief when he saw who the figure was. Standing well above six feet tall, with a very familiar face… for it was Piccolo's own. The doppelganger, as Piccolo decided to refer to him as, having been given no name to call this monster, continued to small, laughing now and again. "Don't laugh! You're about to feel the pain of hell itself." Piccolo screamed. The doppelganger nodded in amusement.

"There you go pretending again, failure. You want to kill _me, _eh?" He said coldly, his voice gruff and haggard, much like Piccolo's own. Piccolo's only reply was to strip off his turban and mantle and toss them to the side, where they landed on the blackened ground with a dull thud, a testament to the heavy materials they were made of. Piccolo clenched his fist and glared, his sadness already being replaced with one desire… to kill this person. The doppelganger cackled again as he noticed Piccolo's face tightening in rage. He made a gesture not unlike that of a chauffeur opening a door, except he was indicating himself. "If you want to try and defeat yourself, be my guest. But you're going to die." The doppelganger replied coolly.

That was enough for Piccolo, as he charged. The figure sidestepped his predictable opening attack, and cracked him hard in the jaw with a single punch. Piccolo pushed off the ground and rolled away, springing to his feet and launching a ki blast with incredible speed. The doppelganger deflected it with a mere flick of the wrist, taunting Piccolo. Piccolo clenched his teeth and glared.

"Is that the best you have, monster?" He snarled. The doppelganger smiled.

"No. But before you die, I'll give you one caveat to chew on. I didn't kill Son Gohan, oh no no no." The figure indicated himself again with a Nameksei-jin hand, and then pointed directly at Piccolo, smiling. "_We_ did." Piccolo couldn't ask for an explanation as the doppelganger dashed forward with blinding speed and smashed Piccolo in the gut, the air escaping from his opponent's lungs. The blow was so sudden and hard, that Piccolo almost didn't feel the blow, only it's aftereffects. A moment later the doppelganger blurred out of existense and appeared behind him, snapping into his back with a powerful kick, sending the Nameksei-jin warrior hurtling towards the ground. Piccolo tasted dirt in his mouth as he collided face-first, rolling away moments before a stomp that would surely have shattered his neck imprinted in the ground occupied his former position. Piccolo propelled himself off the ground with his ki, foot outstretched in a powerful kick that would surely shatter the skull of a normal person. The figure blocked it with ease, caught his leg, and threw Piccolo back to the ground, slamming him once for good measure. He gazed down at Piccolo, eyes ablaze with contempt and a hint of excitement. "That child was harder to kill then you, and I crushed him as I would a kitten!" He said sharply, taunting his victim.

At the sound of a reference to Gohan, Piccolo leapt to his feet and began throwing punches with renewed determination and rage. The doppelganger merely smiled and allowed the punch to connect with his face. A moment later Piccolo punched the doppelganger square in the nose again, and kicked him as well. In mere moments the wind created by the incredible speed of Piccolo's blows kicked up a cloud of dust as he became a green, pink, and purple blur. A few moments later, the sound of flesh pounding on flesh subsided, as the dust began to drift away in the wind. Piccolo was wheezing, bent over and staring at the ground completely drained by his endeavors but confident he had ground this monster into a fleshy pulp. He looked up as the last of the dust cleared and… his mouth fell wide open in shock. Standing there, looking none the worse for wear, was the doppelganger, his arms crossed, that vile little smirk that he knew all too well because it was Piccolo's own etched onto his face.

"H… how… not even Freezer would be able to withstand an attack like that…I hit on EVERY blow!" Even as Piccolo was contemplating this bizarre and terrifying turn of events, the doppelganger acted. One moment he was standing in front of Piccolo, and the next, Piccolo only felt the impact of a uppercut with incredible force behind it cracking him on the chin and sending him flying into the air, dazed and unable to move. As he struggled to focus his ki, turn himself around, bring his hands up to defend himself, he felt a brutal double fisted blow on his back, sending him falling back down to Earth with before landing with a crash that shook the nearby mountains. Even as he struggled to get to his knees, coughing up blood, he was determined not to give up. _"I have to keep fighting… I can't…give up now…" _Piccolo thought vainly. He struggled to his feet, and that was his last mistake. He shook his head to clear it, and by the time he spun around, realizing the doppelganger was standing several meters behind him, it was too late.

His surprise was so great; he barely heard the doppelganger scream, "MAKANKOSAPPO!"

"My god…" Was the only thing Piccolo could think as the corkscrew shaped beam spiraled directly through his chest, yet he somehow kept his footing. Piccolo felt little pain, only a dizzying numbness before slowly glancing down in disbelief at the ragged hole in his chest. He crumpled to the ground, as a cut down tree would, dazed mind racing with the irony of being struck down by his very own attack. In another ironic twist, as he landed and slowly rolled to his side, he found he was gazing directly into his student's dead eyes, the bewildered expression on the child's face not having changed one bit. He felt a shudder run through him as his brain and body began to catch up with the fact that his spinal cord was severed and that his lungs were almost completely burned away… soon he too would be staring into nothingness.

Out of the corner of his rapidly fading peripheral vision, the doppelganger loomed up beside him, grinning triumphantly. He knelt down and spoke directly into Piccolo's ear, so that he was certain the dying Nameksei-jin would hear his last words.

"Remember failure, I didn't kill Gohan. We did. And I'll be right with you to do it again." Piccolo raised his head a fraction of an inch, still trying to demand an explanation, but only managing a slight croak. A moment later his head dropped back down, and his vision became a dizzying array of colors before swirling into a dull monochrome orb, shrinking and shrinking… And then there was only the blackness of death as his body stiffened...

Piccolo groaned as he felt something warm, wet, and oddly soft continually caressing his right cheek. Slowly, he took in the sound of heavy breathing right next to him and the chirping of birds in the distance. He opened his eyes wondering what was going on… and found himself staring into two huge, placid looking liquid eyes. As a soft, slobbery pink blur loomed up over his vision.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!" He screamed, rolling out of his hammock (He had accomplished this by tying his cape to two nearby trees) and crashing to the ground a meter below as the owner of the eyes leaped back.

"EEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Haiyaa dragon squealed, rearing back in surprise at Piccolo's reaction. Piccolo glanced at the dragon, which had been licking the sweat off of his face, and stared at the ground, ignoring his shock for the moment.

"It… was all a dream." He gasped, glaring again at the dragon as he pulled on the top of his gi, which had been lying on a pile of leaves. Finishing this, he untied his cape-turned hammock and wrapped it around his shoulder guards before pulling it over his head. He shivered for a moment, suddenly realizing that he felt dizzy. He wasn't sure he knew why.

It had been the tenth night in a row he had had this nightmare, although the circumstances were always different, they all had two things in common… the doppelganger, and Son Gohan's death. Each one had also had the same grisly theme, he finding Gohan's dead body, battling the doppelganger, the doppelganger uttering the same nonsense about how he was a failure and that they had killed Gohan. He shuddered again as he realized there was only one difference between this dream and the rest… this time the doppelganger had won. He found it hard to believe that he could still remember every vivid detail of each dream, but he did. In the first dream the doppelganger had easily been vaporized by a ki blast… in the ninth he had been forced to summon forth all of his ki in a battle won by sheer will, and now… It was not a comfortable feeling.

"Baka. They're just nightmares, they don't mean anything." Still, despite his rational thoughts and evil logic, the dreams had been battering away at him, both mentally and physically. He hadn't been able to feel rested for quite some time. He had already pondered asking someone for advice, but he would NEVER request, or even accept if it were offered to him, help from his counterpart, the Kami of Chikyuu. Unconsciously, his hand twitched again, and he noticed it this time. _"Fool, you just feel bad because you haven't had anything to drink." _He walked to where a small, clear spring was a few meters away from what he could consider his "home", and bent down to take a drink from it.

A moment later he flipped head over heels as the Haiyaa dragon, neglected and wanting attention, butted him in the… well, butt and sent him tumbling into the cool, shallow water. The dragon's tail wagged mischievously as it squealed with glee. Son Gohan had always enjoyed this game, and though the dragon didn't know Piccolo very well, it had exhibited some of that "animal empathy" and was trying to cheer him up. Piccolo burst from the pond, his face contorted in shock and rage, even as the dragon squealed again as it felt the cool splash of the water trickle down it's dry, smooth body. It shook it's head playfully, daring Piccolo to bend down for another drink, but stopped suddenly as it looked at the expression on Piccolo's face. This wasn't the happy, giggly look of Son Gohan, but the wild, anger filled face of a monster.

"You… you little… IF YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN, I'LL FLAY YOU ALIVE, UNDERSTAND?!" Piccolo bellowed. The dragon hung it's head and fell to the ground as if in apology before beginning to crawl away. Piccolo scowled and turned back towards the lake. Unconsciously, his hand began to tremble again, as he bent down to take a drink… and flipped head over heels again as the dragon rammed him again, having worked up it's courage. The dragon shrieked as Piccolo emerged from the water again, eyes ablaze, and hand's held together, palms outwardly facing the dragon.

"YOU FOOL!" A moment later Piccolo's hand's glowed as his Masenko attack began to fly at the dragon. The dragon's eyes grew wide as the blast came closer and closer. Piccolo's thoughts hammered into his head.

"WHAT AM I DOING?! I've got to stop it!" Piccolo fought with desperate focus and managed to direct the blast in an upward arc, just scorching the dragon's backside before exploding harmlessly several meters above them. The dragon shrieked in pain and scampered off into the woods, terrified. Piccolo brought his hand's to eye level and stared at them in disbelief.

"What was I doing.. it's as if I wasn't in control of myself… I was angry, but not angry enough to…" Piccolo's voice broke off as he felt a shudder pass through him.

Then, oddly enough, and for no apparent reason, he shook slightly again, and then trembled some more, as a faint chuckle emerged from his lungs… before erupting into a harsh, full scaled laugh.

…The nightmare was just beginning…__

_Special thanks to Tomo for answering some one of the most uncommonly asked questions in the book, pre-reading it, etc. etc. ^^ And for posting it, of course. Thanks!_


	2. Tainted Soul Chapter 2

Tainted Soul Chapter 2 By Cremrock

Tainted Soul  
Chapter 2  
By Cremrock

A welcoming shout echoed through bare, brightly colored hallways and into the vacant bedroom before echoing out the window, the sound rapidly diminishing but still scattering some of the wildlife that were very close to the mountain home.

"Gohaaaaan-chan! Breakfast is ready! Are you up yet?"

A bright, happy smile with well lit eyes to accompany it slowly diminished into a perplexed look and then Into a frown, as it became apparent to the greeter, Chi-Chi, mother of Son Gohan and the wife to the legendary Super Saiya-jin, Son Goku, that the child wasn't answering. It wasn't like him, and it was eight-thirty, normally Gohan would up by now and wolfing down his breakfast with an appetite not unlike that of Son Goku…

"Goku…" She thought, her mind trailing back to her husband for a moment, as it had so often during recent times… But he was up among the stars, far away, and Chi-chi wasn't at all sure when he would be back. Her brow furrowed again slightly then softened as her lip trembled for a moment. She had tormented herself with the same questions almost every day since that day, so full of happiness, had also been filled with doubt.

"Why doesn't he want to come back yet? Is it because of me? Something Gohan did? He can train all he wants here… Maybe I was too strict with him…" She bowed her head, staring at her feet as she tried to reassure herself as she always did… or tried, at least. Still, she found herself left without an answer. In some ways it reassured her that she couldn't really put her thumb down on any reason Goku hadn't come back yet, on the other… she sighed. Gohan was all she had left, now. She glanced at the entranceway to the kitchen, and realized she still hadn't heard a peep from Gohan, having gotten lost in her thoughts again.

"Gohan! Are you okay? Why aren't you up yet? Your breakfast is getting cold!"

There was no response yet again. Save for one, the thump of something, or someone, striking against something, a wall maybe, or the hardwood floor. Immediately Chi-chi's mind raced. With one thought. _"Gohan's fallen out of bed!" _It was a trivial thing really, since even if he was sick, a child falling out of bed wasn't much to worry about. But that didn't matter to her as she pictured her son, weak as a kitten and with a huge fever, struggling to move. She cleared the distance between the kitchen and Gohan's room in less then nine seconds, the kitchen and the breakfast forgotten, for the moment. She turned into the room and gasped. The window was wide open, the sun shining through as both sides were swaying. She relaxed slightly. _"Must have been the wind…"_

She looked over to Gohan's bed and saw a large mass obscured by a large amount of blankets and pillows, so many that she wasn't even sure she could see her son's head, face, or even an arm. She gulped, a tender expression was in her eyes, as she wondered if her baby had the chills or something. She walked up to the side of the bed and leaned down towards where she thought the child's head was.

"Gohan-kun? Are you awake? Feeling sick? Mommy's here…" She put a hand on one of the covers, feeling the warmth beneath them, followed by a slight stirring. She heard a small snuffle a moment later, as the blankets stirred again. Chi-chi sighed and sat down next to her son, wondering what was kind of illness he might have.

"You've got the flu, huh? Can you talk? Do you want me to move the covers a bit so you can see better?" The blankets stirred again, a little more strongly this time, shifting to the side a bit. She sighed, bending over and giving her son a slight hug. "Still want to sleep some more? Well, don't worry, I'll go and start preparing some soup, and I just know I can dig up that ice-pack somewhere…" She mumbled, resting a hand on the blankets again. That was when she heard a slight shuffling sound behind her, whirling around and staring in disbelief at Son Gohan, who was standing in the doorway to his room, arms laden with fruits and vegetables.

"Okaasan? Who are you talking to?" Gohan asked, wide-eyed, even as a small, slightly mischievous grin began to spread across the lower half of his face. Chi-chi blinked at him a moment, then turned to stare in disbelief at the lump of blankets that had suddenly rose up and stood on the bed. Chi-chi's eyes widened even more as the lump seemed to rear back, and she covered her eyes, to shield them from whatever was going to hap-

"KRPHLAAAAAAAT!" Chi-chi shuddered as something warm, slimy, and somewhat sticky substance hit her, accompanying this odd sound that sounded almost like a large animal sneezing. Before she could move or even open her eyes to stare, another sneeze came, followed by a blanket which wound up draping itself over Chi-chi, covered in the sticky mucus. She pulled it away from her face, her eyes opening to stare at the reptilian, smooth, horn rounded purple face in front of her, containing two slightly glazed eyes and… an unattractive glob of goop dripping from the creature's left nostril. She instantly recognized the creature, despite it's appearance, and turned to glare at Gohan, who had dropped the vegetables and was trying very hard not to burst into laughter. A moment later his defenses gave way and by the time he had fetched his mother a towel, he was laughing so hard that it felt as if his sides would burst.

Chi-chi accepted the towel, glaring from Gohan to the sleepy Haiyaa Dragon before settling her gaze on Gohan again, even as the dragon burrowed back under the covers and pillows of Gohan's bed. She thrust her right arm out, pointing at the dragon.

"WHAT IS THAT THING DOING HERE, GOHAN?!"

Gohan gulped, his laughter stopping, his face taking on a somewhat serious, somewhat pleading expression. "There's something wrong with him, 'kaasan! I think he's sick or hurt! He came around last night, and he wouldn't eat the vegetables I offered him, so I went to get him some of his favorite ones!"

Chi-chi wasn't visibly moved, although she nodded slightly. Gohan quickly darted up beside her and gently pulled some of the blankets off the dragon, revealing an ugly scabbed over burn wound on the dragon's back. He pointed at it, a tear beginning to well in his eye, which he quickly wiped away, sniffling. "This is a burn mark, mom! Something did this to him, and he's sick! He can't take care of himself in the wilderness right now… I couldn't leave him alone… not when he was like this… he's my friend…"

The woman sighed softly, observing her son, who was biting his lip in an effort to keep from sniffling anymore. _"I can't… there's no room for that Haiyaa Dragon here… we don't have a pen or anything to keep him in… He'll be okay in the wilderness, Gohan has to study…" _She stopped dead in her thoughts for a moment, as a brief semblance of her earlier thoughts about Son Goku returned. _"What if I was being too strict with him…" _She sighed again as she looked from the dragon to Gohan again, who was waiting patiently for a response.

"He can't stay here, Gohan…" Chi-chi began. Gohan opened his mouth, about to protest, to wail, to scream, but his mother wasn't finished yet, as she raised a bracelet ringed hand, rested the other on her hips, and waggled a finger, smiling slightly. "As I was saying, the dragon can't stay here… for an extended period of time. But I'll give you the day off for your studies so that you can find someone to take care of him, okay?" She noticed Gohan's surprised expression, as the child wondered if he were dreaming. Chi-chi groaned under her breath. Realizing that she _must_ have been acting too strict the past few months. If she hadn't, her son wouldn't be so surprised and shocked.

To his credit, Gohan dashed up and embraced his mother, as Chi-chi stepped backwards softly before recovering and keeping the child from inadvertently tumbling her to the ground.

"Thanks, mom! I'll be sure to study more for the next few days to make up for it!" The child beamed, his cherub-like face reflecting off the sunlight. Chi-chi smiled down at her son. Despite his occasional disdain, she really did believe that he didn't mind his studies too much… and well, if her child was growing up, it was nice to know he still thought enough of her to give her a hug now and then, rather then showing the rebelliousness tendencies some children did at his tender age…

"Before you go, would you like some breakfast, Gohan-chan? I don't mind heating it up again…"

"Okay!" Gohan squeaked, and was dashing down the hallway a moment later. Chi-chi shook her head again slightly, grinning. There was more of Son Goku's personality in that child then she had previously thought possible. She felt so cheerful, she even waved slightly to the Haiyaa Dragon, which had watched the exchange with a small hint of interest. She started down the hallway, then peeked back around the door, eyes regarding the dragon suspiciously.

"You're housebroken, right?"

The dragon's reply was another tremendous sneeze, and once again, Chi-chi was the unfortunate recipient of it. The woman fumed as the goop slid down her face, as she bit back the urge to throw the creature out that very instant, since she had promised Gohan…

"Lovely…" She mumbled, storming out of the room, even as the dragon lie back down and nestled into the covers.

Gohan pulled on his shoes and tightened his bright red belt before tugging on the white clothing around his neck. In the room next door, his mother was rapidly tidying up the kitchen. He smiled in the award-winning way only a true child could, feeling confident and maybe even a little stronger in his self-made "Piccolo Clothes". He was bending down to make sure his shoes were on securely when Chi-chi poked her head into the room, shaking her head again as she noticed Gohan's choice of clothing for the day. She closed her eyes.

"Now Gohan, you know I don't like you wearing those clothes… they look too much like the clothes that awful…" Gohan tiptoed out the door, pretending not to hear, as Chi-chi continued. "Green kidnapper wears… seriously, why would you want to emulate such a sketchy person… He's so quiet, and I don't think he's ever said hi, or had a polite word for anyone… How about you put on your overalls and that nice yellow shirt… isn't that a good idea, Gohan? Gohan?" She opened her eyes, gazing around the empty room, before shrugging, her eyebrows raising upwards questioningly. "Maybe I should get his hearing checked…"

The ground was a brilliant, multicolored patchwork quilt below him, and the empty sky above was almost dizzying in its eternal blueness, which seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

Gohan flew through the sky slowly, eager to find attention for his pet, but at the same time enjoying the first day off he could without worrying about his mother suddenly finding him and asking why he wasn't studying… He also wasn't sure whom he could ask. A moment later, his face brightened as he thought of his mentor.

"I know! I'll go visit Piccolo-san! I haven't seen him for awhile, and I bet he'd know of some way to help me…" For a moment he pictured his mentor actually taking care of his pet, and giggled aloud. No, he knew better then to directly ask for that kind of help, but he decided he might ask it anyway, if only to see the look of surprise followed by a rapid crossing of his arms, a smirk, and an, "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that, Gohan." As a response. Still, maybe he would have some advice, and at the very least, he would have an engaging conversation with his best friend. He was surprised as he realized that he hadn't seen the older warrior for a little over two weeks. Time had truly been passing by quickly. His eyes narrowed, as he realized he was almost over the area that Piccolo frequented the most, which was quite near his house. Gohan decided he liked that, although he did wish Piccolo would actually come to visit him sometime…

"I wonder where he could be? He wasn't here two days ago, and he wasn't here when I checked last week either…" Gohan knew that these thoughts were easily explained, as it was fairly easy to miss his mentor. After all, it wasn't as if the man actually had a true clear-cut home… He journeyed the planet, meditating and training, and there were times when Gohan wondered if he was truly the only bright spot in the Nameksei-jin's life. He tried to sense his ki in hopes that he would discover him in the area, but found nothing. The child sighed, cupping a hand to his chin. _"Well… maybe he's meditating… I've never been able to get enough control to sense him when he's been doing that…" _Gohan shrugged, beginning a descent to the ground. _"Maybe Piccolo will find me…"_

With a small crackling of branches and the gentle wheezing of breath, death stormed through the forest on all fours, seeking to claim another victim. The mountain lion, it's representative for this particular day in the woods, as well as the largest mammalian predator in the area, stalked it's prey, a large, powerfully built antelope whose scent the lion had picked up only moments before. It approached from downwind, observing from a high tree. Below, on a plain several meters away from any trees, stood the antelope, placidly chewing on a mouthful of grass. A moment later, a howl echoed from somewhere nearby. The sound terrified the antelope and it dashed towards the underbrush, fifty meters away.

The lion, realizing that it's chance was blown by the strange howl, leapt to the ground and started pursuing the startled creature. With luck, it would only take one or two enormous bounds to catch up with the prey, and then it could bring it down just short of the underbrush with one colossal leap. It was about to pounce when the antelope put on a burst of speed and made it into the underbrush. The lion sniffed the air delicately, picking up another scent, raising its head to probe the air further. A moment later, there was another howl, but this one was more animal-like in nature, and it echoed from the underbrush the antelope had run into moments earlier. Whatever the howl was, it frightened the lion, which turned and scampered away as fast as its legs would carry it.

The original howl, or scream, returned, conveying pain, disgust, regret… and a loss of self-control… A moment later, it stopped abruptly, as the person behind the sound, from some semblance of his rapidly diminishing resolve and shattered mind, sensed a ki approaching. A ki he knew, and knew well, almost always keeping it in his mind, with the resilience a father would have watching over their child.

"Gohan… no…" Piccolo stammered, turning the head of the antelope he had so forcefully decapitated around in his hands, so that the startled eyes were staring up at him. Piccolo wasn't himself, wasn't in control of himself… The reason, truth be told, was quite simple, and it terrified him. He was losing control. Control of his mind… and body. 

Death wasn't scampering away on all fours, frightened off by a howl. It was huddled in a bush, desperately praying that it's student wouldn't come any closer.

Gohan knelt down over the fire-pit, rubbing a hand over the ashes, which were stone cold. He had heard a howl coming from this direction only a moment earlier, and had decided to investigate. Something had been going on here, all right. There was what appeared to be dried blood all over the ground, and the sight chilled Gohan.

"Maybe there's a pack of wolves living around here or something… But wolves can't make fire…" He surveyed the rest of the area. Then, a thought coming to him as he remembered his original purpose for coming here, he cupped two hands around his mouth.

"Piccolo-saaaaaan! It's me, Son Gohan! Are you here?" There was no answer, but Gohan hadn't really expected one. He narrowed his eyes. Something didn't feel right. He almost felt as if he was being watched, but he couldn't sense any ki… "Piccolo-san? Are you hiding somewhere?" Gohan asked to the empty air, his face expressionless. He didn't think that would be the answer… Piccolo rarely played games, and he certainly wasn't one to hide. It just wasn't the man's nature. A slight rustling in the bushes far to his left caught his eye, as if a shudder had passed through someone… or something… inside. "Piccolo-san? Are you in there?" Gohan asked, meandering closer, intending to investigate.

Piccolo trembled as the figure that he distinctly recognized as Son Gohan edged closer to the bushes he was in. He began to shudder again. _"NO… Stay away… please…" _He silently begged, biting his tongue in hopes that the pain would help him control himself. He glanced down at his hands, which were sweat-covered, like the rest of him, his gi sticking to his back. He was waging war, war against himself. He had already needlessly killed any wildlife that had been walking near him… he hadn't been able to control it, and now, his worst nightmare was coming to pass. Gohan was approaching. And if he didn't do something in a moment, Gohan would find him. His shattered memory thought back to the dreams he had been having weeks ago. They had stopped, but only because he hadn't slept for two weeks.

"I didn't kill Gohan, we killed Gohan." Like a knife through his heart, foretelling the future, at least to Piccolo, his war continued. He quietly swore then. He knew he was close to losing control again. Every fiber of his being wanted to go out and… kill. Destroy, murder, and cause pain and suffering in his wake. The only thing holding him back was his mind. He wasn't sure if he could go on for much longer… and Gohan continued to approach.

"Oh Kami… please…" Piccolo silently prayed from within one of the dark corner's of his mind. It wasn't a plea to his counterpart, as much as it was a general plea to himself. He slowly stared down at the antelope head at his feet. It sickened him, but gave him one small glimmer of hope, in the hell he found himself wrestling with. He willed his protesting arms to pick it up, and…

Gohan shrieked in disbelief and surprise as something flew out of the bushes in front of him, smashing into a tree behind him. He turned around and dashed towards the object, observing what it was. When he realized it, the thought chilled him and saddened him, even as it completed what he had been thinking.

"Must just be some wild animal, then. The poor antelope must've been grazing… There was a struggle, that would explain the blood, and whatever killed it dragged it in there and is chowing down on it right now." Gohan shuddered, feeling nauseated. He had seen death before, and much worse then the mutilated head of a single animal. But it never made it any easier. He glanced up at the sky, thinking of such an animal devouring the Haiyaa Dragon, and relaxed slightly, glad he had persuaded his mom to let it stay for the day. He thought for a moment, then decided to go to the Capsule Corporation. He was sure the Briefs family wouldn't mind a visit, and maybe they had seen Piccolo. And he knew that they would probably have some facility that could take care of the dragon for him… at least until the creature got better… He stared at the head one last time.

"I'm glad Piccolo-san can take care of himself. He could probably wipe out anything that could do that to an antelope, no sweat…"

With that final, ironic thought, he leapt into the air, propelling himself with his ki in the general direction of the Capsule Corporation.

Gohan had left, but the thought didn't relieve Piccolo at all, as he staggered out of the bushes. It was terrifying, but he had come so close to killing his best friend, and the child didn't even know it… He pushed the thought out of his mind. He was still shaking, and he threatened to lose control again.

"Why is this happening to me?"

Piccolo didn't know the answers. He wasn't even sure he knew himself, anymore. And his control was slipping again. It had diminished slightly after Gohan had left, but not completely. It was never gone completely. He wasn't just killing animals. He wasn't in control of himself, but now… it almost felt like an addiction. Every time he lost control, he had killed something, with a few notable exceptions when it had begun, two weeks ago. And every time after that, the killing relieved him slightly. He regained partial control. But he wasn't sure how long that would last. And he was terrified at the prospect of killing an intelligent creature.

Deer and wildlife were one thing. People were another. And friends… He shook his head. The shadow that enveloped his body and was taking control of him… he could feel it. And it wasn't content with his body anymore, because he could control it at times. Piccolo knew. Whatever was happening to him, it wanted his mind.

That was when a rustling from behind alerted him, and he sensed the ki of someone behind him. The man was dressed in camouflage and toting a shotgun, evidently hunting in the area, maybe camping. He smiled at Piccolo, who hadn't turned around yet.

"Well I'll be. I didn't know anyone else was hunting in this area!" He frowned, taking in Piccolo's clothes, even though all he could see at the moment was the Nameksei-jin's long cape, tattered by two weeks of journeying.

"Go away…" Piccolo growled, and even that took effort. He felt himself losing control and being seized by whatever was happening to him again… The man scratched his head from under his cap.

"Are you okay, sir? You don't look very good to me… Do you need help?" He asked, kindly. He was a hunter, but he only was doing it for food, and not for sport. Piccolo trembled and stared at the ground, his voice a low rumble.

"Get out of here… I can't control myself… get out… or… you'll… DIE!"

The man blinked in disbelief, as Piccolo spun around upon finishing the last word. He looked like death itself, his face covered in sweat, his hands clenched at his sides, purple blood streaming from his lower lip, which he was even now biting, struggling to remain in control of himself for just a few crucial seconds longer. Maybe long enough for the man to run away.

"A-are you okay, sir? Your skin doesn't look very good… Have you been bitten by anything? A snake? I've got all sorts of anti-toxins in my survival kit, you… k-know?"

Piccolo shuddered one last time, then smiled at the man, who took a step backwards, surprised at this odd person's friendly expression. Piccolo raised one hand.

"No! R…run you fool, I can't… NOOOOOOOO-" The jolt of ki exploded from his hand, and the man shrieked in horror, raising his hands up to shield his face… It didn't make a difference, as Piccolo's attack raged with such force that the man's corpse, ablaze yet still standing, buckled for a moment, before finally drifting completely into ash as Piccolo finished his attack. As his mind regained control of himself, at least for the moment, he fell to his hands and knees, winded. A small pang of relief had come, yes. But he had lost himself. He bowed his head, shedding tears not necessarily for the man, whom he felt he had failed, but himself. And for all that stood to die if he lost control of himself again.

That was when he felt it. A voice that sent chills down his spine, echoing from inside his mind. For he knew the voice, clipped and harsh though it was, like his own.

"One down, millions to go. And your Gohan, your best friend in the world… he could be next."

It was the voice from his dream, that of the doppelganger. He stared down at his hands again, rising slowly to his feet, the sheer terror of what had happened remaining with him. He had lost to himself. Again.


	3. Tainted Soul Chapter 3

Tainted Soul Chapter 3 By Cremrock

Tainted Soul  
Chapter 3  
By Cremrock

Piccolo was alone. Far more alone then he could ever remember. The wind rustled around him, stirring up what little remains of the man he had unintentionally killed and sending them flying to far away places. At that moment, Piccolo wished the ashes were his. At least then, he wouldn't have to worry about harming anyone else. And whatever tortures and manifestations hell could take would be far less then what he was going through now.

He stared at his hands… they could kill others, perhaps he could use them to kill himself. He raised a hand to his forehead and concentrated, in hopes of calling up his Makkankosappo. The ki, a warm, unforgiving light, began to build around his fingertips, starting as a tiny spark, accompanied by a sound not unlike that of an electrical charge building up into overload. It grew hotter and hotter until Piccolo knew that his attack was ready. He refused to move his hand from his forehead, however, content in the knowledge that if this succeeded, he would essentially be blowing his own head off.

Problem was, his body refused to respond, as he realized he was shaking. It was maddening! He had been dead before, had no fear of the afterlife… why would he hesitate! It would be the best thing for the world, and it would prevent the deaths that were bound to come if he permitted himself to live…

The ki built up towards a critical mass, and screaming at his inability to do what he knew… no, _felt, _had to be done, he tore his hand away from his forehead.

A moment later, the Makkankosappo erupted from his hand in a brilliant display of purple and golden yellow energy, the scintillating blast seeming to drive the light around Piccolo away, bringing a shadow over him, much like he felt on the inside. The blast exploded into the cliff above him, covering him with the prickly hail of tiny shards of rock, and he involuntarily raised an arm to protect his eyes, shuddering. If he had had his way, he would've been blinded. That was when the voice, tauntingly sinister in it's tone despite being limited to residing in his mind, returned.

"Oh, no you don't. I'm not going to let you throw yourself off this mortal coil and defeat my plans that way. For now, revel in the delight that you're continuing to lose your mind and can't do anything to stop it… "

Piccolo fell to the ground, screaming, holding his head in both hands.

"GET OUUUUT!" That was when, Piccolo, clinging to the last vestiges of his sanity, did something he never would have done under any circumstances. His voice was weak, his spirit crushed, the will to fight ever continuing to slip away, the darkness claiming him, whatever or whoever it was, threatening to lay the final nail in the coffin that contained his mind and hammer it down.

"Please… leave me… I don't… want to fight you… anymore…" Piccolo gasped, whatever pride he may have once had being thrown to the dogs of time.

"Begging?! Why Piccolo, I'm shocked… I never would have expected something like that… Thank you for reassuring my fears that I'm doing the right thing."

Piccolo's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could do anything else, he felt a wave of darkness pass over him, in a bizarre combination of drowsiness and weakness. A moment later he thumped to the ground, unconscious.__

From afar, two all-knowing eyes had been watching Piccolo. The owner of these eyes frowned from within the craggy green features of his face, as behind him, staring out into the infinite blueness of the heavens, stood his black skinned, turban clad servant.

Kami, the god of earth, relaxed his two hands from his staff as the glazed look in his eyes returned to normal. He smiled slightly, although it was no time to acknowledge a victory, as he turned back to look at Mr. Popo, who had been staring only moments before.

"So you've done it, Kami-sama?" Popo asked, a forlorn tone in his voice. The old Nameksei-jin nodded, his antennae bobbing just slightly up and down. Popo gulped. "Are you sure you won't reconsider, lord? Surely there is another way…"

Kami shook his head.

"Haven't you felt it, Popo-san?" Kami asked sternly, looking back over the edge at the slumbering Piccolo, who rested on the Earth far below.

Popo, surprisingly, nodded. "Your counterpart is losing his mind. Could it be as we've often suspected? Could the evil in him be resurfacing, with or without his consent?"

Kami shook his head, leaning hard on his staff as he was mentally preparing himself for what had to be done. "No, I don't believe it's that… his heart was almost completely devoid of evil, he was changing… I don't see how he could have such a resurgence of evil. I've seen this before, long ago… don't you remember? When there was that problem Enma-sama had with the gates of hell… The spirits themselves were escaping and entering people's minds and souls… of course, since they had no mental resistance, they succumbed easily… Enma couldn't help, he was far too busy trying to keep the gates closed… it was before they had been intelligent enough to have his workers actually in the underworld keeping a close eye on the spirits… We had quite a time entering the minds of those humans and driving the spirits out, but fortunately there hadn't been anyone really powerful… It was my first real crisis as Kami, remember?"

Popo nodded solemnly, still not quite sure what Kami was getting at, when it hit him. "I see, sir. But what does this have to do with Piccolo?" Kami shrugged.

"I don't know, Mr. Popo. But I would suspect that somehow, a soul has escaped from hell and is trying to control him. I don't know why they would have chosen him… he's far stronger mentally then Son Gohan and the otheres are… It is very perplexing. Whoever this person is, I'm going to confront him in Piccolo's mind… it may be the only chance he has."

Popo gulped. "But Kami-sama, what happens if you fail?" Kami smiled sadly at Mr. Popo.

"I can foresee two things happening. The first, if the shock of being defeated in Piccolo's mind is of sufficient strength, it will kill me." Popo's jaw dropped as a huge sweatdrop appeared on his forehead.

"Kami, no! Please, don't go! I don't want to see you hurt, or… or…" Popo closed his mouth, not bearing to think about what it would be like to lose his master again. Kami smiled.

"The other option, and this is the one I fear most, is that I will fail but remain alive. Any mental contest that I would lose would undoubtedly put me in a coma for several weeks, at the very least, and possibly forever, and if that happens, there will be no one to stop Piccolo… One way or the other, Piccolo must be stopped. Remember that."

"Ohhhhh Kami… I don't think I could do… that…" Popo stammered, trying to drive the horrible thought out of his mind. Kami put a hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling down at him for what might be the last time.

"Be strong, Mr. Popo. Remember that however things turn out, I'd do what I feel is best for Chikyuu-sei. If Piccolo loses control and is threatening the Earth, then you know what you have to do or have done… promise me you will. I swear I won't hold a grudge." Popo sniffled, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I… don't know if I can… but… I will try… for you, Kami… Please don't die." Kami stared at Popo another moment, then turned away, his cape fluttering in the sparse wind that surrounded the Tenkai. He turned to glance over his shoulder.

"Take care if I don't see you again, Mr. Popo. I've never had a truer friend." With that statement done, even as Mr. Popo watched, Kami focused his vision on the slumbering Piccolo. A moment later, he was there, but he wasn't there, as his eyes were once again glazed over.

Kami-sama, Piccolo's good half, and the god of Earth, was gone, yet not gone. His body continued to reside on the edge of the Lookout, locked in a trance, staring at the slumbering Piccolo.

But his mind and spirit had gone to war, leaving Popo behind, with the short man on his knees, praying for his trusted friend's safe return.

"Good luck, Kami-sama… Come back alive…"

Lightning crackled around him, but there were no storm clouds overhead, only a dizzying vortex of every color on the spectrum in a constantly changing pattern. Kami stared up at the vortex for a moment, then down at the large shard of rock he was standing on. Around him were several larger rocks, including a central one below him, spanning what seemed to only be twenty meters but could easily be twenty million meters within the confines of the mind.

Kami stared up at the vortex that was all around the rocks one more time. He frowned. He did not like what was before his eyes, even as the brightness of the lightning illuminated the area further, as he cupped a single hand to his chin. His other hung at his side, and his traditional staff was curiously absent. He didn't need it here. He had already learned quite a bit about Piccolo's state of mind by observing him for the past two weeks, and this had confirmed it.

A normal person, that is to say, one whose mind, body, and soul were in perfect sync or even a little skewed would have, for the most part, a perfect island. There wouldn't be shards here and there, instead, the land would be complete, with few broken parts. There were few people who were perfect in every way mentally, but Piccolo's psyche seemed to be the worst he had ever seen, or felt, since what he was doing still couldn't quite be classified as seeing.

"Definitely someone or something trying to take over his mind. There's no possible way his mind could be so fragmented otherwise." Kami looked up at the vortex again. It continued battling itself in its perplexing, indiscernible array of colors and patterns. It was, quite simply chaos, and that worried Kami even more then the shattered psyche did. For each emotion, there were corresponding colors and patterns, different in every person, but fairly easy to pick out if one knew what to feel for. That Piccolo's emotions could be this horrible, especially considering the fact that Piccolo was now asleep showed that he was truly in trouble. Kami allowed himself a small smile, though, very small indeed. At least it meant that Piccolo was still fighting. Knowing his counterpart as well as he did, he knew that Piccolo wouldn't have had it any other way, but the signs were also crystal clear in another way… Piccolo was definitely losing to whatever was trying to take control of him.

He frowned again, surveying his hands. The wizened hands of nearly five-hundred years were gone, replaced by the green smoothness of a Nameksei-jin in his prime. He allowed himself a small smirk not unlike that of Piccolo.

"Maybe we really are only as young as we feel."

Mentally steeling himself for the challenge he knew was ahead, Kami put his hands at his sides and stared down at the island. It was most likely that Piccolo, and whoever was attempting to take control, could be found down there. He leapt downwards towards the island, as it slowly began to grow in size under his vision as he descended, leaving the shard of rock that had been the temporary home for his mental projection behind, determined to render aid to his counterpart.

Everywhere Kami went, he saw devastation. A massive split in the land here, a crack that allowed seemingly red-hot lava to seep from the land there. He had been walking for what seemed like hours, although in the physical world, it could easily be that Mr. Popo had only blinked once or twice, as mere seconds could have passed. However, time, like Piccolo's mind, was chaotic, and Kami also knew that several hours could have passed. He shook his head, clearing his mind of distractions.

That was when he heard a howl of pain, that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire world, or at least, his world. A moment later, the ground beneath his feet cracked wide open, and Kami dived aside as the fissure widened. Finally, the howl stopped, and the world returned to normal. Kami shuddered.

"Piccolo's lost another part of himself. If I don't hurry and find him, it could be too late… if whatever possesses him takes over completely, I'll be powerless. Indeed, the only reason I was able to breach his mind and put him to sleep now is because he's been so weakened mentally…"

He leapt into the air, trying to get a better view, using his ki to propel himself along the ground. A moment later, Kami's brow furrowed, as he gasped at what his keen eyesight saw ahead. A clear pool, sparkling in the distance. But that wasn't all. Tied to a stake in the middle of the pool was a howling Piccolo, or rather, Piccolo's mental projection and image of himself.And it was a mess. The Nameksei-jin's mind was quite obviously, still alive, since it couldn't exactly be killed, but Kami could easily see why his counterpart's resolve had been waning.

Kami knew it was a mental image, and was in reality only Piccolo's defense. He was here, whoever else might be trying to occupy his mind was here, but the Piccolo Kami had sighted, though looking identical to the original, was only Piccolo's finely honed mental defenses, the kind that everyone had. When those defenses broke down or were destroyed, then there was nothing stopping the possessing company. Indeed, if Kami had not already witnessed atrocities even more hideous then the physical state Piccolo's defense was in, he may have collapsed at the sheer horror of the condition right there.

Dark streaks of purple laced Piccolo's face and upper body, as the top of his gi had long been shorn off by whatever force had inflicted the injury upon him. One arm was hanging limp against the stake, apparently broken in several places, including one where the bone had actually broken the skin, leaving a faint trail of blood continuing to drip down his arm with a sickening, continuing plip-plop into the water. His other arm had been so badly burned that it was charred black, and noticeably smaller. Kami noticed that Piccolo had been staring at him, and gasped in shock as he realized the reason the Nameksei-jin hadn't acknowledged his presence, even with a scream, a nod of the head, a glare, anything. The fire was gone from his eyes, quite simply, because there were no eyes left. Kami could only see the purple of two bloodshot Nameksei-jin eyes; the pupils were nowhere to be seen. Kami was surprised that the Nameksei-jin had any kind of resolve left, when he noticed something else. Slowly but surely, the stake was sinking into the water, and Piccolo was obviously not going to break free without help.

"Quite a mess… he's still trying to fight, but at the same time he's given up or that stake wouldn't be sinking… If I lose him, then whatever's been attacking his mind will have no barrier… I've got to hurry and rescue him before I can defeat whatever's causing this."

Crackling with energy, Kami charged towards the stake as fast as he possibly could, eyes ablaze with the intent to save his counterpart from further harm. He was younger, felt younger as a mental projection, and he had always been far stronger mentally then physically, even in his prime.

As Kami hovered near the stake, Piccolo went insane, jolting from whatever trance he had been in and glancing rapidly around, screaming; though whether in pain or surprise, Kami had no way to tell.

"Relax! I'm here to save you!" Kami intoned, hoping that the Piccolo wasn't so far gone that he would understand what he was saying. Piccolo whipped his head around to stare at Kami with one clouded eye. A moment later, he screamed again, face wild with horror as he struggled against his bonds so hard that his wrists and legs began to bleed again. That was when he started spouting what seemed to be gibberish to Kami. When in this state of mental stress, virtually everything that might be said should be taken with a grain of salt.

"Awaaaaaaaaaay! Back, stay!" He shrieked, shaking his head rapidly. "Torture! Pain! No more no more no more!" Kami raised his hands, adopting a neutral expression.

"I'm here to free you, not to hurt you…" At the sound of Kami's voice, Piccolo screamed again, as if perhaps his scream could banish this new tormenter away.

"Lies! Betrayer and you! Won't… let win…" That was when Kami reached out and snapped the bonds that tied Piccolo to the stake, as the Nameksei-jin tumbled into the water, shrieking at the pain as the salt water penetrated dozens of wounds. Cursing to himself, Kami quickly reached his hand in and pulled the weakened Piccolo out.

"Fine way to convince him you're not the enemy! It's been too long since I've done this…"

He flew, supporting the screaming and struggling Piccolo, to the lake's bank, easing him to the ground, even as he shrieked once again and thrashed wildly. Kami grabbed the terrified Nameksei-jin, steadying him, and staring into his good eye, deliberately speaking harshly and slowly, the way a grown-up might to an unresponsive child.

"Listen! I am not the enemy! I am here to help you!" Piccolo stared at Kami for a moment, and for a fleeting second, seemed to maintain some semblance of sanity. At the very least, he stopped struggling for the moment. Though physicality was still quite absent, healing and recovery could still be simulated on this mental world, as Kami glanced around, finally spying what could only be a small, freshwater pond a scant thirty or so meters away. It had opened up a moment ago, and though it perplexed Kami, he knew that it could very well have been Piccolo's mind's way of reacting to his rescue of his defense. He glanced down at Piccolo again.

"Rest here a moment, I'm going to get you some water, okay?" Kami asked. Piccolo's only response was to shudder, perhaps from his wounds, or perhaps in terror, but he nodded slowly. Kami smiled slightly, since it seemed he might actually be getting through after all. He dashed to the pond and stared down into it, admiring his reflection for a moment, astonishment on his face at the recognition of it. It had been so long since he had seen what he looked like when young… He reached a hand up to scratch an antenna, and the reflection did the same, sparkling. Kami smiled a moment, marveling as his reflection did the same, of course, since after all, it was his reflection. A moment later his eyes widened in shock as a grin spread across the reflection's face.

"I'm not in the real world! There isn't any reflection he-" Before Kami could finish this thought, a dark blur burst out of the pool and uppercutted him across the jaw, sending him flying into the air. But he was not an old man in this world, and quickly regained his balance, floating in the air and staring at his adversary in shock, as his foe grinned at him cunningly.

The reason for his shock was readily apparent. The reflection in the lake had not been some kind of bizarre, mentally induced illusion. He was fighting himself, and yet… Something about the face, the symbol on the clothing, the-

Piccolo shrieked, kicking up a cloud of dust as he tried to shrink away from the two of them, crawling away on broken arms and legs, moaning, "Get away from me! No more! No more!"

Kami's counterpart turned briefly and stared at him, grinning cruelly. He was about to speak when Kami charged into him, cracking him hard in the jaw with his elbow, catching him off-guard as he hurtled towards the ground. He quickly regained his balance, somersaulting in mid-air and landing cleanly on his feet, raising his hand to hurl a ki blast in one fluid motion. Kami met it head-on with a ki blast of his own, and the battle for Piccolo's mind was on.

Out of the smoke, three more rapid ki blasts lanced out towards Kami, and he evaded, spreading his legs as one passed harmlessly under him, flying to the right to dodge the second, and crouching in mid-air as one just barely missed where his right eye had been a second earlier. He sensed his opponent's ki sudden appear directly behind him instead of in front of him, and brought his arm over his shoulder, rocking with the blow as his doppelganger's fist smashed into his wrist instead of his head. Kami then spun around with a powerful kick, cracking the doppelganger in the face, sending a stream of blood flying into the air and delivering his foe back to the ground, nose broken.

Kami allowed himself a small grin.

"You haven't been practicing, have you?"

The doppelganger leered at him, voice cruel and ringed with displeasure. "Where I come from, practicing is not readily in abundance."

Kami changed his expression to a stern one as he glanced at Piccolo, who had continued to cower away during the entire fight. "I can't believe you would do such horrible things to your own son."

That was when the doppelganger exploded in rage, flying up to Kami with blinding speed and smashing him hard in the gut before bringing both hands down across Kami's back, sending him to the ground with a dull thud. The doppelganger's eyes sparkled with rage, even as Kami calmly rose to his feet.

"He is not my son! He doesn't even deserve to carry my name! He's weak, like you!"

Kami stood unwavering, before smiling slightly.

"Perhaps it is you who is the weak one." The doppelganger stared in shock as a moment later, Kami faded out of existence. He surveyed the area rapidly.

"Where did h- OOF!" The grunt had come because Kami had smashed both hands into the back of his counterpart's head, sending him hurtling back to the landscape. He tried to jump to his feet, but before he could, Kami was upon him, pinning him to the ground and raising one hand above his head for a killing blow.

"I don't know how your soul escaped from hell, but regardless, I will banish you back there. You're not going to be tormenting him any longer!"

The doppelganger smiled through blood-streaked teeth.

"Torment? Oh, believe me, it pains me to do this, even to such a weakling that doesn't deserve to be called my son. But it's the only way for _us_ to be free. When I am reborn, I _will_ destroy the people of this planet you love. I will have revenge. And you won't be able to stop me."

Kami glared at him.

"You're delusional. Your twisted plan, whatever it may be, ends here and NOW!" Upon the final word, Kami raised his hand further, but before he could bring it down, a vise of iron gripped his wrist as a deep, clipped, and respectful voice lingered in his ears.

"I am truly sorry I must do this, for I respect any member of my race. But you didn't leave me any other choice." Kami spun around, eyes widening in shock.

"What?! You?!" He exclaimed in surprise. He didn't have time to say anything else, as the person holding his wrist punched him hard in the face before snapping his wrist with an awful twist, even as Kami choked on his pain. The pain that followed was much worse, as this new opponent tossed him up into the air, batting him around with a series of brutal, perfectly timed kicks before sending him flying over the lake. But Kami wasn't going to land in the water, which would be too simple to warrant such a barrage of timely attacks.

He was going to land directly on the stake. The pain that followed was excruciating, as he actually saw and felt the stake pierce his back and explode into his line of sight, streaked with purple blood as it exited his abdomen. He coughed up blood and stared at his opponent, vision already beginning to fade. Even at that, he realized that not all of what Piccolo had been saying had been gibberish when he had freed him. 

_"Betrayer..."_

"W… why…?" Kami gasped. A moment before his vision swirled into nothingness, he could have sworn he had seen a single tear roll down his opponent's cheek.

In the physical world, Mr. Popo was horrified to see Kami gasp, clutch his head, and then topple off the edge of the Lookout, unconscious.

"KAMI-SAMA! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He screamed, hopping onto his magic carpet and speeding through the air after his master, the only person in the world that actually mattered to him.

He grabbed Kami's wrist mere moments before the Nameksei-jin would have smashed into the ground, narrowly preventing disaster. Popo grabbed his master's wrist, trying to check for his pulse, and was gratified slightly when he felt a very faint one. He quickly checked his master's body for wounds, unable to find any, when it hit him, and the thought worried him far more then any physical wound would have.

"He lost…" Popo knew what the results were to losing in mental combat. Even if you did survive, it was very likely that you would never wake up. He choked on a tear, gazing up at the sky even as his carpet returned the two of them to the top of the Lookout.

"Kami-sama…" He gasped, praying to see the fluttering of an eyelid, anything to prove to him that his mentor's mind was still there. He choked again, then fell to his knees before glancing up at the sky and cursing whatever fate had allowed this to transpire.

"KAMI-SAAAAAMMMMAAAAAAAAAA!"


	4. Tainted Soul Chapter 4

Tainted Soul Chapter 4 By Cremrock

Tainted Soul  
Chapter 4  
By Cremrock

A breeze rustled through Son Gohan's hair, carrying just a slight hint of the smell of smog on its wings as it whistled past his ears. The child's bright, alert eyes spied the dome shaped buildings of the Capsule Corporation dotting the city far below him. He was about to descend when a sudden wave of uneasiness washed over him. He staggered briefly in mid-air and plummeted towards Chikyuu.

"What the hell?!" He thought, the fact that he very rarely cursed accenting his sudden and complete surprise as he passed through a cloud, flailing his arms and legs wildly as the Earth loomed ever closer. _"Stop thinking! Focus on flight!"_

A moment later, eyes clenched shut, he regained control and floated in mid-air, still several hundred meters above the ground. He glanced down at his hands in disbelief, the expression of confusion etched on his face betraying his only thought.

"What could have done that?" That was when another wave of uneasiness washed over him, and he nearly lost the control of his flight again. _"What's doing this?! I'd better land, RIGHT now!" _Fortunately for him, the Capsule Corporation Headquarters was directly below him, and he wasted no time; His feet were on the ground in a matter of seconds. A slight gasp escaped his mouth as he observed the complex in front of him with awe. Certainly, the Briefs family had never failed to impress him, as he watched robots no higher then his waist frantically floating around, scrubbing the tiny circular windows and touching up any spots where the paint had begun to thin. One of them noticed him standing at the door and floated down to greet him a moment after accessing it's artificial intelligence system.

"Welcome to Capsule Corporation." It buzzed sardonically. "Please state your name and business, and a representative will be out to invite you in as soon as possible."

"It's me, Son Gohan!" Gohan replied with a cheerful, seemingly award-winning wave. "I've come to see Bulma-san, is she in?" The robot was accessing its memory banks and was about to reply when the door slid open, revealing a smiling, blond haired, bright-eyed woman clad in a striped top and blue jeans.

"Oh, hello Gohan! I was cleaning in the lobby and I thought I heard your voice!" She exclaimed cheerfully, smiling even brighter then before, if that could be believed. Gohan blushed slightly.

"Nice to see you, Mrs. Briefs!" He grinned. "Is Bulma-san around? I'd like to see her soon, I have to ask her something!" The older woman nodded, still smiling.

"Hai Gohan-kun, she's here! Tenshinhan-san, Yamucha-san, Kuririn-san, and Chaozu-san are here as well! We were going to call you, but we thought you had to study today…" Her voice trailed off, as she worried slightly that the child would be disappointed or offended. Fortunately, Gohan just grinned wider. He was very empathic, he could tell what Mrs. Briefs was thinking as he darted up and embraced her.

"Oh, it's not a problem, ma'am! I understand! Can you take me to them?" He asked, even as the older woman took a step back, regaining her balance.

"Oh, certainly! Would you like some cookies or something to drink, first?" She asked, even as she started walking, knowing the child would be eagerly following behind.

"Sure, thanks!"

The corridor leading to the gravity chamber was long and narrow, with lights of varying shapes and sizes dotting it's sides, seeming to bring out a large light band that followed the ceiling. At the far end of the corridor was a large hatch leading inside the chamber, with a warning message inscribed on it. Gohan was about to proceed down the corridor when a hand touched his shoulder. Under normal circumstances, the boy would have immediately gripped the hand, swung it's around his shoulder, and pinned them to the ground. Piccolo had taught him to always be wary of strangers, and that it would be better if they spoke to you on your terms than vice versa.

Instead, Gohan turned around and smiled at Mrs. Briefs, who was still standing behind him. She was wearing a concerned look.

"Are you sure you'll be all right in there Gohan-kun? I've heard it's awfully dangerous." Mrs. Briefs had never quite accepted the fact that Gohan was one of the strongest people on the planet, still seeing the innocent little tot of Son Goku, and not the battle-hardened warrior that would probably never truly be able to return to that carefree world again. "I mean, Bulma goes in there when they don't have the gravity turned on, but she knows when to duck…"

Gohan smiled reassuringly at the woman.

"Don't worry, ma'am, I'll be fine! 'Tousan taught me how to duck, and I never used t'get hurt whenever he was training…" Mrs. Briefs didn't look convinced, but nodded slightly. Finally, she nodded again, reassuring herself.

"That Yamucha is such a responsible man… He'd never let little Gohan be hurt…" She smiled again and tousled Gohan's hair.

"You're so mature for your age, Gohan! Go have fun and ask them if they want any lemonade, okay?"

"Hai!" Gohan proclaimed, turning and running down the corridor before the woman could say anything else.

At the end of the corridor, Gohan could hear the sounds of sparring going on, and a quick sensing of ki showed him why.

"Oh my gosh! They're all there! Kuririn-san, Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and even Chaozu! I wonder what's going on?" He was about to dash through the door and surprise them when he realized that they were still training.

"NEVER, EVER INTERRUPT SOMEONE WHEN THEY ARE TRAINING! UNDERSTAND, BRAT?" The thought, so easily recalled within his mind, pounded in his head with the ferocity it had when he had first heard the words from his beloved mentor, and Gohan slowed down for a moment, to remember, leaning against the wall. He didn't even feel himself slip into unconsciousness, as a bizarre wave of weakness washed over him...

The embers of the fire had already begun to die down when he had awakened, his head throbbing slightly, and the undeniable call of nature beckoning him to return to the land of consciousness and awareness.

It was still night, and a cold wind whirled around him, chilling his exposed flesh and making the child realize he really should be devoting more of his time to patching up his tattered gi.

"P-P-Piccolo-san?" He asked plaintively. No one had heard him, of course. Or they didn't care. His body ached, his heart ached, every fiber of his being ached, and it was all because of _him._ That dark-green skinned mysterious man, the one that had torn him out of his native environment, the one that had sent his ki blast savagely spinning through his father's chest. Somehow, Gohan had found he was beginning to respect the mysterious… demon, he had called himself, anyway. That was when he heard something, far off. Perhaps three hundred meters away from where he was standing.

"Insolent fool! Do you truly think yourself capable of defeating me? I will grind your bones to dust!" The harsh voice, not unlike that of Piccolo's own, reached his ears. He gulped. Was there two Piccolo's there? Very slowly, he tiptoed over to a tree and peeked around it. He gasped in disbelief. The reason was quite simple. _There were two Piccolo's there. _One was an exact copy of the other, right down from the antennae, eye ridges, fangs, and costume. Both of them were sweating and bearing several bruises and minor abrasions. That was when they charged each other again. A Nameksei-jin curse issued from the mouth of one of the Piccolo's as the other slipped past his guard and punched him in the gut, grinning vilely as the curse reached his ears. A moment later, the injured Piccolo brought his knee-up with blinding speed into the first Piccolo's chest before spinning out of his opponent's grasp; He had grabbed onto him with an intent to throw him following the gut-punch; and smashing him to the side with a back-handed spinning punch.

That was when the first Piccolo leapt to his feet, swinging a glowing hand around his shoulder.

"MASENKO-HA!" He shrieked, even as the ball of crackling purple and yellow energy flew from his outstretched hand, illuminating the ground and driving the light away from the surrounding area while streaking towards the other Piccolo, whose eyes had widened in shock at the surprise attack. He tensed, crouched down, and leapt into the air, the blast streaking just centimeters under his feet and streaking towards the forest… And one tree in particular.

Both Piccolo's were surprised to hear a shriek of terror issue from the tree nearest them moments before it exploded, absorbing the brunt of the ki blast but breaking into charred splinters in the process. The Piccolo's shock and anger were so great that they found themselves joining back together into one almost simultaneously. Gohan didn't notice this transformation, of course… he was too busy crying, trying not to look at his badly charred left leg. Piccolo marched up to him, fierce eyes burning with anger, lips bearing an expression of disgust, his only defense against the slight feeling of sympathy and regret he felt for the child.

Gohan was sniffling not so much at the pain as he was at the punishment that was sure to follow. Sure enough, even as he stood over him, Piccolo's teeth were clenched, as he was seething, like a cobra poised to explode and strike for the heart at any moment.

"YOU LITTLE FOOL! NEVER, EVER INTERRUPT SOMEONE WHEN THEY ARE TRAINING, UNDERSTAND?" He bit his lip then, not adding the, "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!" That might betray this vile feeling of friendship he felt he was beginning to grow with the boy. He turned away from Gohan then, even as the child began sobbing.

"P… P… Piccolo-san… I didn't m-m-mean too! My leg… hurts… I can't… M-m-mov-" His choked voice fell to silence again as Piccolo spun around and glared at him, cape swirling around and making him look like some eerie, vengeful spirit of the night.

"You're the child of Son Goku! You should be able to withstand the pain! Now go to sleep! You're not going to be garnering any sympathy from me, brat!" With that, he turned away and dashed off into the night, leaving the child alone to treat his mangled leg, a feat he would never have been able to accomplish had he been the soft, innocent schoolchild of old. He glanced up at the stars, his leg burning with pain, and began to sob again.

"Piccolo-san doesn't like me… I've disrespected him and failed him…" With those final words, he continued crying, until he finally wept himself to sleep.

"I can't believe I'm doing this…" The errant thought poked through Piccolo's mind, and not for the first time during his quiet flight. Far in the distance, his destination loomed in front of him- Karin's tower, resting right below the Lookout that housed that accursed Kami. He had half a mind to just waltz in and demand the senzu bean from that accursed cat, but he sensed for ki's and was surprised to sense Son Goku's friend's resting in the tower. He smirked slightly. _"So, it seems that Kami has been doing some training of his own… More power to them. I highly doubt it, but perhaps those fools may actually survive this coming onslaught." _He stopped, floating in mid-air with his arms crossed, glowering at the tower. Not for the first time, he again considered just barging in, incinerating that stupid cat, and waltzing off with the senzus in the way an ancient warlord would conquer a village. His lips tightened in a scowl. However satisfying that might be, it would also draw the attention of Kami and his friends, and he wouldn't want to extend the energy necessary to destroy them. He smiled slightly. _"And when the Saiya-jin come, I'm going to need all the assistance I can get… If only so that there are more targets…" _He seriously doubted that they would be able to assist him. Son Goku and his child were surely the only people with enough power to make a difference, at least in his eyes.

His thoughts of the child snapped him back to why he was here, as he stealthily extended a leg over the railing and slipped in. Within moments he had sighted the senzu, and snatched one away, hiding it within the fibers of his cape. A moment later he vaulted over the railing and flew in the direction he had been training with Gohan, smirking slightly at how easy it was to escape detection.

Behind him, watching him fly off into the distance from the shadows, was Karin. He chuckled slightly, twitched one whisker, and turned away, surmising what Piccolo had been up to and already noticing the missing Senzu. It would be something interesting to discuss with Kami when they next met.

Gohan had just finished bandaging his leg when a cloud of dust rose up and stung his eyes, being kicked up by Piccolo's steep descent to the ground. The man, several years Gohan's elder, glared at him disgustedly.

"P-P-Piccolo-san?" Gohan stuttered. He hadn't finished tending to his leg, and was worried what Piccolo was going to do. He was about to speak again when Piccolo thrust the senzu bean in his face. "W-W-What's this, huh?" Piccolo glowered.

"Eat it and go to sleep, brat! As a punishment for your ineptitude, we will be training non-stop for ten days beginning tomorrow!" The snarl escaped from his lips and reached Gohan's ears, even as his lip began to tremble.

"T-t-ten days? I'll die! I can't live without food like you can, Piccolo-san…" Piccolo smirked.

"We shall see. If you survive you'll be even tougher then before. If not, well, I'm sure you don't want that to happen…" Piccolo chuckled as Gohan took the bean.

"Smart boy. Now go to sleep, you'll need every bit of it."

"But P-P-Piccolo-san, my leg…"

"SILENCE! Do you think you'll be able to just bow out of a fight if one of those Saiya-jin warriors wound you? You'll have to battle for your life!" He screamed, and this time Gohan got the message, not wanting to anger his mentor further. He swallowed the bean, and willed himself to sleep without a second thought.

Piccolo turned away, smiling slightly and tromping off into the forest to train again. About halfway there, he stopped and glanced back at the child, a slight look of sympathy just barely detectable in his eyes. He growled, turning that sympathy into power, and ki-blasted a few logs near Son Gohan, which crackled to life in a fan of fire. Immediately, the child smiled slightly in his sleep and edged closer to the fire. Satisfied, Piccolo turned and trudged off into the bushes.

"…Son Gohan? Gohan? Hey! Are you all right?" Gohan's eyes fluttered momentarily… someone was shaking him by the shoulders, and their voice was tinged with concern.

"…'Kaasan?" He mumbled, not even opening his eyes, "It's not… even light out… yet…"

"Gohan, wake up! C'mon!" He was shaken roughly again, and through his hazy mind, Gohan realized that this wasn't the voice of his mother at all. No, it was someone very familiar, the same voice he had grown accustomed to hearing during his travels on the Planet Namek, as well as quite often back here on Chikyuu…

The child's eyes shot open immediately, as the fog in his mind lifted and the sensation of weakness was banished by a jolt of adrenaline, even as he took in this figure looming over him… "Kuririn-san?! What…" Kuririn cut him off.

"Whoa, slow down there, Gohan! Give yourself a little more time to get oriented…" The monk extended a hand, and Gohan grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, surveying the area around him. He was still in the Capsule Corporation, right outside the gravity chamber…

"What happened? Did I fall asleep?" Gohan requested, easing himself away from Kuririn, confident now that his own legs could support him. He noticed the slight expression of fear in Kuririn's eyes, then. But the real thing that drove his eyes to the monk's face to stare in shock was the bloody two-inch gash above his right eye.

"KURIRIN-SAN! What happened? Are you all right?!"

"Hold on, kiddo. Let me check the others first…" The bald-headed warrior spun around and punched in a four digit code, as the entrance to the gravity chamber slid open ever so slightly, revealing a blocked passageway upon the final stretch.

He swore then, the curse resonating around the chamber as he spun around, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched, his head wound and the slight trickle of blood dripping down past his eye not bothering him in the least. This wasn't Kuririn the happy-go-lucky, ever present helping hand and friend. This was Kuririn the warrior, ready to respond to whatever fate was currently throwing at him.

"The others? What's happened? Is everything okay? Are _you_ okay?" He asked. Kuririn shook his head, already beginning to run down the hallway. Trained as he was, Gohan followed. Kuririn's breath came out in short, ragged gasps as was Gohan's. Clearly, they were still weak from whatever it was that was affecting them, but the monk was kind enough to offer a tense explanation of what was going on as they ran down the corridor towards; At least, Gohan thought so, it was so hard to get his bearings,; the alternate entrance to the Gravity Chamber.

"I don't know what is happening, Gohan. We were sparring in the gravity chamber when my knees buckled and I suddenly felt my strength waning, almost resonating within me, as if it was screaming to get out!" Gohan watched with concern in his young eyes as Kuririn visibly shudder as his thoughts flickered back to the horrible sensation only minutes before. "Unfortunately, right before this was happening, I was countering Tenshinhan-san's Kikouhou with my own Kame Hame Ha! We were both aware that our energies were rapidly spiraling out of control from what the gravity chamber could handle, but we could do nothing to stop it! Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Yamcha and Chaozu running for cover, and then…" The monk's voice slowed in intensity into a tone filled with regret. "There was the explosion. I guess it blew me out of the gravity chamber right before that entrance caved in… when I regained consciousness you were lying there asleep, and now here we are! We've got to get in there, they may be trapped, or unconscious, or dying, or…" His voice trailed off.

Gohan saw the fear so visible on his face, but then he brightened slightly, ahead of them was the alternate door leading into the gravity chamber. It was off it's hinges, but still blocking their path. To their eyes, it didn't look as if it would take much to topple it down.

"At least, if we had our power right now…" Gohan thought grimly. He raised his hand as they continued charging towards the door, which was perhaps sixty meters away, but still couldn't gather the ki, or the focus, or whatever mysterious force was preventing him from unleashing a masenko blast. Fortunately, Kuririn had a plan that Gohan had only begun to realize they would have to enact or skid to a stop…

"Gohan! Hit it high, I'll hit it low!" They ran in tandem, and at the last moment even as Kuririn rammed his shoulder into the bulk of it, Gohan had leapt into the air, sending his foot out with as much of a thrust as his well-toned muscles could take without the benefit of ki!

The two warriors tumbled through the door even as it thundered forward from their impact, bouncing and rolling to a stop before springing to their feet. The gravity chamber was darkened, but illuminated by the faint light of an electrical fire burning in the corner. Now and again, the gravity machine in the center would hum, as if trying to start up again, but this often resulted in a mere shower of sparks. The two of them picked themselves up from the floor and glanced around frantically.

A moment later came Kuririn's shout, and Gohan glanced in the direction he was in to see three figures on the floor, unmoving. The two dashed over instantly, the grim looks on their faces betraying what they saw. Lying perpendicular to the gravity machine was Yamucha, his face badly burned, one eye seeming to be burned shut, and his left arm a crusty black. Kuririn reached down and took the man's pulse, gratified that he was still alive.

"Hang on Yamucha, we're gonna get you outta here, all right?" Gohan heard Kuririn mumble softly, the fear in his voice easily deduced. Gohan heard a faint cry, and glanced left to see Tenshinhan unconscious, lying on his chest. His shoulder and left arm was at an odd angle, almost as if he were lying on top of someth-

"Chaozu!" Gohan exclaimed, dashing up to the two of them. Struggling desperately to get free, eyes awash with tears, Chaozu was trying to slip out from under his best friend, although Gohan was pleased that the younger man seemed none the worse for wear. The price was apparent, however, Tenshinhan's arm was covered with blood, and his back was a deep, fire-born red.

"Son Gohan! Help!" Chaozu managed to squeak, although Gohan was already there, moving Tenshinhan slightly and pulling the tiny doll-like man out, holding him by the shoulders to steady him.

"Chaozu? Are you okay?!" Gohan asked, even as his eyes glanced up and down the man's body to check for any apparent injuries. Chaozu could only nod, his voice a cracked whisper, his worry and sadness for Tenshinhan now that he was free overriding any chance he had of speaking through his overflowing tears. Gohan was pleased to note the smaller man was beginning to do his best to wrap his best friend's wounds in the tatters of his shirt. Under normal circumstances, Gohan would have liked nothing more than to console his friend, but this wasn't the time, as he realized there was one person still missing, and she was the most fragile of all.

He closed his eyes and attempted to concentrate- Damn this strange inability to feel or sense ki-, but as he had suspected, felt nothing in the area, not Tenshinhan or Chaozu, even though both were quite clearly at his feet. He was about to search again when he heard a faint tapping sound, getting louder and louder until it was the sound of something pounding, the sound resonating through the metal of the room… and getting closer.

Kuririn looked up from where he was kneeling next to Yamucha. He had already torn his shirt as well, and was pleased to note that the man was still severely injured, but had ceased bleeding.

"Did any of you hear that?" Gohan asked timidly, glancing to the left at the rubble blocking the battered and collapsed entrance they had been forced to bypass, where he thought he had heard the sound.

"I-I-I heard it…" Chaozu whispered, his voice not anywhere near it's normal tone, for good reason. Kuririn's eyes traced to Gohan and Chaozu, and then back down at Yamucha. His body was spent, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but he clenched his two fists and glanced at the rubble. He nodded slowly, and whispered.

"I heard the sound… It's getting louder. Whatever it is, it's something big… did you ever wonder exactly why all these weird things are going on? Something or someone could be here… be on your guard, with so much of our power missing there's no room for mistakes." He tilted his head towards the rubble, and Gohan edged towards it, every muscle poised to leap away, throw a punch, block, or any other maneuver that he might require.

A moment later the sound changed into a steady sliding sound, as if something was about to charge through-

"Gohan, get back!" Kuririn shouted, but the child was already back, flipping through the air and landing a good twenty feet away from where he had been standing before. His dark clothing and shaggy black hair securely left him back in the shadows, where he would be noticed fairly easily, but not by someone casually glancing around. The rubble shifted and creaked, and a moment later, collapsed inward on itself with a vast amount of smoke and dust. Gohan heard Chaozu coughing, but stayed where he was, trying to see what had broken through and waiting for the dust to clear, deciding that whatever was coming through that dust might not be an opponent, therefore he had better stop and recognize who or what it was. Kuririn had edged off to the side at this point as while, crouching down in hiding, obviously with the intent to surprise this foe or foes if he, or she, Kuririn reminded himself, was indeed an opponent.

That was when he heard a voice cutting through the dust, a voice that immediately put him at ease.

"Yamucha? Kuririn?! Is anyone in there?" Bulma's high voice, laced with fear for her friends yet tinged with the quiet optimism the woman nearly always possessed, ringed through the air and touched Kuririn's, Gohan's, and Chaozu's ears. It was followed by the faint hum-hum of several of the minuscule yet powerful capsule robots that maintained the area and were rapidly carting away massive shovels full of rubble.

From his position in the darkness, Gohan heard her sigh slightly in relief, letting out a portion of the tension she was feeling.

"Kuririn! Chaozu! Thank God! Are you all right?"

Kuririn nodded, but kneeled next to Yamucha. "We're fine, but we've got to get Yamucha and Tenshinhan some attention… they've been through worse than this, but…" His voice trailed off, filled with worry. Bulma was worried herself, but tried not to allow her emotions at seeing Yamucha injured impair her authority.

"Right! R-2 and R-3, take Yamucha and Tenshinhan to the lab immediately! Hurry!" She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, not so much because she needed to direct the robots but to relieve some of the anxiety still threatening to burst free. Quite obediently and with a faint hum-hum, the robots delicately picked up the fallen men and hovered off briskly to the lab. Kuririn cupped a hand around his chin and glanced down at the floor, deep in thought now that his friends had been taken care of. Chaozu glanced in the direction of the robots, sighed, and glanced pleadingly at Bulma. She read the question in his small, sorrow filled eyes, and nodded in agreement as he darted off in the direction of the robots, following his injured friends. 

That was when Bulma screamed, for at that moment Gohan had walked out of the shadows, startling her. She regained her composure nearly instantly, but was slightly shaken. "G-g-g-Gohan-kun? What are you doing here?" Behind her, Kuririn chuckled softly.

The child put his hand behind his head and smiled slightly. He allowed himself this smile because he knew his friends were now in good hands, and he could finally allow himself to relax slightly. A trickle of perspiration ran down his forehead. "Well… it's a long story… I was just coming to ask if there was a place the Haiyaa Dragon could stay for awhile…" The child blushed, not wanting to explain how his current predicament had come to pass. Fortunately, Bulma and Kuririn understood instantly, even as Kuririn came up behind Gohan and nudged him with his elbow.

"Chi-chi said you couldn't keep him in the house, eh?" Kuririn said, grinning. Gohan nodded.

"He can take care of himself in the wilderness, but he's been acting oddly lately, I think something out there hurt him and I want to take care of him until he gets better."

"I'm sure I can arrange something, Gohan, but now doesn't seem to be the time… After all, something caused this!" Bulma interjected. She waved a hand at all the rubble. "What were you guys doing anyway, your impression of Son?"

Kuririn rolled his eyes slightly, hoping the older woman wouldn't notice. "I don't know, Bulma. Something seems to be affecting our ki… I feel fine now, though. I don't quite understand what's going on, except that whatever it is, it's certainly not right!" Kuririn glanced at Gohan. "Gohan, before you arrived, this happened once before, although we didn't notice much of anything, just a momentary lack of control… Did you sense anything?"

Gohan winced, remembering the unpleasant sensation of only a scant half-hour or so before. "I didn't just sense something, I lived it! I was flying over here when I lost control and started plummeting… it's a good thing I regained control in time, since apparently whatever is going on is affecting all of our energies, and not just ki…"

Kuririn nodded. "It does seem rather odd… I've never heard of anything like this ever happening before, but I bet we know someone who would." The monk gestured at Bulma, who blinked at him.

"What, me? I don't know anything about your psycho-ki-energy-whoozle!" Kuririn sighed.

Kuririn maintained his air of politeness while his tone adopted just a slight hint of exasperation. "That wasn't what I was about to ask… Bulma-san, may we borrow a capsule jet? I bet Kami-sama would know about this, but with this happening, I'm not sure we should trust our flying skills right now…" Bulma and Gohan nodded, seeing the man's logic instantly.

"Kuririn-san, while we're at it, we should stop by at Karin's and ask if he has any senzu beans… I'm sure Yamucha and Tenshinhan would appreciate them, and if something truly is going on, we may need all the help we can get!" Gohan interjected. Kuririn pondered this for a moment, and then nodded in agreement.

"By the way, should we contact Piccolo? I'm sure he's aware of this as well. Have you seen him around, Gohan?"

Gohan sighed. "You mean you haven't seen him either? I haven't seen him for a week or two… I hope he's all right…" His voice trailed off, although Kuririn and Bulma could both hear him mumble a very faint "Piccolo-san…" under his breath.

"We'll ask Kami if he knows where he is… don't worry about him, Gohan! Piccolo's very adept at taking care of himself… He's probably just training somewhere, you know him. I'm sure he'll turn up if we need him!" Kuririn failed to notice the faint hint of a tear in Gohan's eye, which the child quickly wiped away, glancing back at the monk to grin at him, masking his concern.

"Yeah, you're right, Kuririn! Let's get to the lookout! The sooner we go, the sooner we'll be back! Bulma, can you take care of Yamucha and Tenshinhan with Chaozu while we're gone?"

The blue-haired woman nodded. "Yeah, I guess, but…"

Gohan waved rapidly and dashed out, with Kuririn hot on his heels. "See you later, Bulma!" He yelled hurriedly over his shoulder, before regaining his pace with Gohan, disappearing down the corridor in a flash.

"Dammit!" She mumbled crossly, annoyed at having been left so rapidly. "I don't even know if they know how to fly that thing… Gohan-kun sure seemed eager to leave…" Behind her, the rest of the gravity machine broke free of it's hinges and tumbled down to the ground with a loud crash behind her. She rolled her eyes, and left for the opposite corridor, resolving to ask Gohan and Kuririn to clean it later in response to their impolite departure.

The being that was Piccolo and yet not quite Piccolo awoke, surveying the area where he had been asleep. His arms were shaking, and his legs wobbled even as he stood on his feet, before raising his hands to eye level. He stared long and hard at his own hands, inhaled deeply; and slowly, his hands stopped shaking. He allowed himself a small, cruel smile. A moment later, his hands began to shake again, and he replaced his smile with a frown.

"That accursed Kami-sama… my battle with him weakened me! My son is still fighting, deep inside… I took control too early, but no matter! This will pass soon… Soon his mind will quiet as he realizes that there is no escape." These words were of course not spoken,but merely his own thoughts. _His_ thoughts. Not Piccolo's. Which meant that despite this shortcoming, all was proceeding according to plan. He tensed, feeling the power of his new body, and prepared to leap into the air and test his ki. He leapt into the air with a colossal jump, and found himself plummeting to the ground rather than reaching out and gathering his energy within him. He smashed into it a large rock a moment later, rolling down it and tumbling back to the ground. Scowling, he rose off of the ground quickly, mumbling a curse and feeling at the small dabs of purple blood streaming from his cracked lip. _"You're not helping, you know." _

A moment later, he felt ready to try again, and this time he soared into the air effortlessly. He glanced down at the landscape below him for a moment, cape billowing around his sleek form, and smirked again. _"Now for a real test of my control!" _He extended one hand towards the ground, and launched a yellowish-purple ball of energy, which sunk down low and exploded upon contact with the ground, obliterating trees and rock alike.

The power of the blast even surprising him, he glanced at his trembling hand, eyes wide with shock. _"My son has indeed become powerful… I never imagined power like this!" _He smiled slightly, and then began to chuckle, lowly at first, until it erupted into cruel laughter. No one would be able to stop him now. He reached out with his ki, and sensed what he was searching for. Two large ki's moving away from a major city… with two vastly weaker, but still detectable ki's inside, unmoving. He drifted through Piccolo's memories, until he recognized whom the ki's belonged to. _"Son Goku's boy is flying away from the city… I'll save him for last. First I want him to suffer. I can't destroy Son Goku, so I can do the next best thing."_

The cruel laughter returning, the person that was not Piccolo glimmered for a moment with ki energy, and then soared off in the direction of the three weak ki's. He flew, in search of his revenge, searching Piccolo's memories for more specific knowledge on whom he would be beginning his crusade on. And the start of that crusade was a place called Capsule Corporation and three people named Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and Chaozu. For the faint semblance of sanity that was named Piccolo, the nightmare had ended with the loss of his body. But for the others, the nightmare was only just beginning...

Author's comment: Geez, it's been a long time since I've written anything… I'd like to extend a big apology to everyone! ^^; This is just to confirm that I'm not dead, although my site is, for the moment… I've been bogged down with everything… O.o Finding a college, football practices, evil grades that just won't go awaaaaaaaay, and all that other good stuff. I've given up making guarantees when new chapters will be around since I keep breaking any deadline I set, but I do assure everyone of this… this story will see an end! And I promise It won't be some half-assed wrap the story up quick so I can rest thing… It'll just take awhile… ^^; Thanks for being so patient, all! ^_^ I'm sure my writing skills have lost a step because I haven't been writing extensively lately, so any feedback is a plus! 'specially the bad kind… I knoooow there's something messed up in there… =P ~Cremrock


	5. Tainted Soul Chapter 5

Tainted Soul

Tainted Soul

Chapter 5: Chaos Descending

By Cremrock

Son Gohan idly picked at a fingernail as the capsule jet, piloted by Kuririn, meandered it's way towards the Tenkai. Sunlight sparkled off of it's brilliant chrome-plated siding, even as the faint blue flame emitted from the vehicle's backside showed a firm indication that the engine was working smoothly. Gohan sighed and watched the puffy clouds go by. It was a brilliant jet, yes, and one that many people could scarcely dream of owning. But it sure wasn't nearly as enjoyable; or fast; as flying was. Gohan sighed again, and Kuririn glanced back at him, echoing the thought Gohan had been having the entire trip.

"It's too slow for you too, right Gohan?"

The child nodded, wishing more than ever at that moment that he could feel the wind rushing through his hair, propelling himself through the air with his own power. Kuririn shrugged and glanced back towards the front, even though there wasn't really anything to glance at. He had set the vehicle to autopilot, and the technology was so sophisticated that it could probably fly itself the whole way. Silence reigned for a few moments, before Kuririn spoke again, having observed the child the whole time.

"You're worried about Piccolo, aren't you?" Gohan didn't respond, merely sighing and looking out the window. Finally partially to be polite, and partially because he was grateful his friend had asked, he nodded, worry etched in his face.

"Piccolo-san is good at hiding his emotions… He told me to try it sometime. How could you tell?"

Kuririn smiled slightly, not wanting Gohan to get the impression that he wasn't worrying about Piccolo himself. "Because that's the exact same look that I get whenever I'm wishing I was strong enough to help Goku." Kuririn placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "It hurts, either not being able to help, whether you don't have the power, or you just don't know where they are. But everything'll turn out okay, you see? What you have to do is just be ready for that time when you can help."

Gohan glanced away from Kuririn's eyes, then looked up slightly and nodded.

"You're right… Arigatou, Kuririn!" The child did not sound fully convinced, but Kuririn decided he would let Gohan dwell on it for a bit. It might just keep him from worrying. He sighed under his breath. And if it didn't, then he could always try again.

He allowed his mind to drift, longing for the sensation to feel the wind rushing past him, rather then having the capsule car continue at it's damningly slow pace compared to their flight.

The "voyage" continued…

---

A faint wind whistled around the Lookout, sounding for all the world like the sigh of a saddened child. On top of the lookout, the only person currently with any semblance of consciousness stood, even as the wind whistled past his ears, driving his state of despair down even lower.

He glanced back where Kami lay, face furrowed in the unmistakable language of pain, though physical or mental, Popo couldn't tell. Around him, the faint wind continued, and he sighed sadly, wondering in the same moment if the planet that Kami was the guardian of could feel his pain and was mourning in much the same way he was.

He glanced at Kami again, and walked over to check his temperature, which was well over the normal temperature for a Nameksei-jin. Popo grimaced. Whatever pain Kami was experiencing, it was beginning to have an affect on his body as well as his mind. That was when he heard the sound. It began as a slight rumbling, although the shaking Popo was experiencing was more of a reaction to the sound rather then an actual physical affect. It slowly began growing louder and louder, as a gust of wind began to tug at Popo's baggy pants, swirling them around his legs as a rush of heated air streamed across his back. Following this, with a faint sound eerily reminiscent of a loud exhalation of breath, the noise diminished until it was nothing more than a faint hum.

That was when Popo turned around, only to find that the Lookout had suddenly gained a new addition, and more importantly, two new visitors, whom he recognized instantly. Both were staring at him, until Popo realized, they weren't staring at him, they were staring behind him. He sighed, low enough that they would not be able to hear, knowing exactly what would happen in a mere sec-

"Mr. Popo! What's happened? Is Kami-sama all right?" Gohan said; no, it was more like a wail. The child, garments flapping in the breeze created by the speed of his own dash, cleared the distance between the capsule jet and where Popo was standing in mere seconds, despite nearly stumbling on his way out the jet. Through this all, his eyes were perpetually focused on one thing; Kami. The focus did not last for long, of course, as tears began to fill the young demi-Saiya-jin's eyes. Gohan glanced up at Mr. Popo furtively, but his voice seemed to have departed; Kuririn asked the question that he knew Gohan wanted to ask.

"Is he… alive?"

Popo nodded solemnly, but Kuririn knew, from the look in the dark skinned servant's eyes, that things were far from all right. Gohan looked up at Mr. Popo, eyes still abrim with tears, but at least he was trying to control himself now. It was selfish, but Gohan tried to stop crying. Mr. Popo nodded to Gohan, understanding what he had feared. For if Kami was dead, then Piccolo was dead as well, accounting back to the time Kami had cast off his evil, which had become Piccolo Diamaou.

Gohan shuddered, trying to regain control of his feelings as he had been forced to so often before. Kuririn was perfectly in command of his emotions though, and didn't see it necessary for Gohan to have to ask the next question, as well.

"Mr. Popo, is Kami okay? What's going on?" Kuririn queried. Mr. Popo glanced mournfully at Kami. He knew as Kuririn had known earlier that Gohan had not been crying necessarily for Kami, but for fear that Piccolo had died, but he found himself wrestling with his own wish to burst into wails and sobs, pausing to collect himself before beginning.

His voice was barely audible; a far cry from his normal voice, and the answer the man gave chilled Kuririn with its simplicity.

"Chaos. After several centuries of peace, in a limited form, chaos has come. Again."

---

As if struck by a thunderbolt, three eyes suddenly snapped open, as it's owner jolted up in the bed and glanced all around, even as Bulma and Chaotzu leapt away from him in shock and surprise.

It wasn't the light shining brightly down upon his face, noticeable even to someone whose eyes were closed. It hadn't been the tiny hands of his best friend clasped over his chest, praying to a currently mind-dead Kami for the safe recovery and healing, that flush of awareness that would prove the life-sign monitors; Which, although bleeping strongly, could always be faulty.

It wasn't even the slight pinch of a robot arm injecting a syringe into the man's, nor Bulma's silent, stubborn hope that he would wake up soon.

No, the man known as Tenshinhan awoke because he was frightened, and though his entire body ached, his emotions, his heart, his soul even, told him that he had to wake up, wake up, or be extinguished. Glancing around at his friends and inhaling slowly, he saw that they hadn't noticed it yet. Or felt it. That much was clear from the joy in his best friend's eyes and pale, clownish face.

A primal fear rose up in him, and rather than acknowledge Bulma and Chaotzu, he glanced aside at the other bed, where Yamucha lay. That was when his instincts stopped taking over, his body and mind's reaction to the power he had felt giving way to his normal stoics and rationality upon spotting the thing he might need the most, an ally. Or rather, an ally that could fight. A moment later he sunk back down, wincing and clutching his abdomen, having been able to ignore the stabbing pain in his moment of adrenaline induced panic.

"Ten? What's wrong?" Chaotzu pleaded, looking worriedly at him, even as Bulma offered him a glass filled with water.

"Can't you feel it?" He grumbled sharply, his voice far more pain, and perhaps ever a hint of anger, filled. That was when Chaozu's eyes shot open, even as the small man began to tremble, whether from fear or a sheer overwhelming of senses, Bulma could not tell.

"My… my God!"

That was when everything went insane, as Yamucha jolted upright with the same look of panic that had previously enveloped Tenshinhan and was now enveloping he and Chaozu. Then, he began thrashing wildly and babbling nonsense, his long black hair billowing in waves around him. He was quite obviously in far greater pain, both physical and nervous, than Tenshinhan had been in.

"Darkness! Th-th-the darkness! That incredible wave of power! Can't you feel it? Power! Pain! The darkness!" Yamucha didn't get in another word, because Tenshinhan, fighting his own pain, grabbed the man by the shoulders, and slapped him across the face, causing him to shriek in pain, even as Bulma gawked at them, alarmed by this strange behavior.

"Dammit Tenshinhan, be more gentle! His whole face was burnt, remember?!"

This had of course been forgotten, as all Tenshinhan could think about at the moment was snapping his friend out of his lunacy, both so that he would not injure himself further, and because, to combat this oncoming rush of power, he would need an ally. Chaozu had already been overwhelmed and had sunk to the floor, unconscious.

"Tenshinhan! Yamucha?! What is it! What's wrong?" Bulma found she had regained her composure, and not being able to sense ki, had no idea why they were acting the way they were.

Both Yamucha and Tenshinhan spun around to glare at Bulma, wide eyed, however, it was Tenshinhan who first spoke, taking charge immediately. There was no time for pain now, there was only time for action, and both Yamucha and Tenshinhan knew this.

"Bulma! Take Chaozu and get out of here now! Go somewhere hidden!" Bulma frowned, picking up Chaozu, and responding with that stubborn glare they all knew so well.

"Why? What's going on? You haven't told me anything yet!"

Tenshinhan cursed inwardly. He hadn't told her anything because there wasn't any time, and because he didn't know _anything, _except that there was a decidedly evil and powerful ki heading straight for them. Fortunately, Yamucha came to his rescue.

"Bulma, hon… Just go down to the emergency underground shelter, lock yourself in, and summon all the security you can. I promise you I'll tell you everything when everything's okay…" Yamucha said, his voice gentle, but still edged with the tang of the pain of his previous wounds.

Bulma glared, trying to decide whether to stay and demand another explanation or not. A tense moment later, she nodded.

"But don't you go and forget to tell me, got it? You did the same damn thing when you came back to life, an-" Tenshinhan cut her off.

"Damn it Bulma, it's getting closer every second! GO NOW!" Bulma stopped dead in her tracks, glanced down at Chaozu, and looked up. Tenshinhan rarely ever swore, which meant… she spun around and broke off into a dead sprint down the corridor leading away from the medical lab.

Yamucha glanced at his friend, who was grimacing, even as he tensed, ready to call forth whatever ki he could muster. A moment later, he arced his hands upwards, and blasted a hole through the ceiling, flying as well as he could with his broken ribs, and landing on the roof. A second later, Yamucha too, sprung up through the hole and landed next to his friend, both of them gasping for air and wondering just how much of a fight they might be able to put up against this unseen threat.

Yamucha leaned down and rested his blackened left arm across his knees, the bandages around his head already dabbed with fresh blood, even as he glanced at his friend with his one good eye, the other bound tightly, having been tended to after his ordeal in the gravity chamber. "What do we do now, Tenshinhan?"

His friend's response was delivered as if it were an arrow, straight and piercing, even as he began to unwrap the restricting bandages that laced around his back and right arm. "We wait."

They were waiting for chaos to descend.

---

Unaware of the events that were rapidly transpiring on the Earth below them, Gohan and Kuririn stared at Popo in surprise. Kuririn broke the silence first.

"Chaos? Whatever do you mean?" The word chaos hadn't spooked Kuririn. After all, they had dealt with "chaotic" situations before. It was the sense of resignation in Popo's voice already. Popo normally wasn't one to quit, unless… Ah, he understood now. The man's faith in Kami was a belief that no matter what was wrong, he would see to fixing it, that there was always a chance when Kami was around. However, now…

Gohan sat in silence, wanting clearly to question Popo about Piccolo's whereabouts, but knowing they had to know what was going on. Popo glanced at them and sat down, sighing all the while, even as Kuririn regarded him with a questioning look.

"In order to best explain what I mean, I must first tell you of an event that happened to Kami and I in the past." He explained. Kuririn glanced down at the tiled floor, and sat down beside Gohan. Whatever the story was, and whatever the source of this "chaos" was, he knew better than to waste energy by standing.

Popo regarded them. "You do find it easier if you see something with your eyes as well, right? It will save time that way. In that case, close them and clear your mind…" His voice trailed off. Kuririn and Gohan glanced at each other, shrugged, and closed their eyes. They saw nothing at first, until they gradually became aware that they were floating next to each other, standing against a dark, seemingly endless area around them. Yet, they were seeing each other, as well as Mr. Popo, before them, each of them fully illuminated, as if by brilliant sunlight on a cloudless day. Of course, both Kuririn and Gohan, experienced as they were, knew they were really still within their own minds.

A moment later, the blackened void exploded into a bright burst of orange ground, blue water, and lush green vegetation, as they suddenly realized they were standing on Chikyuu-sei.

"Five-hundred years ago, Kami and I were forced to deal with a threat that threatened the very existence of Chikyuu-sei. A great cataclysm, perhaps influenced by magic, perhaps not, shook the afterlife; or more specifically, the gates to hell."

The landscape changed, and Kuririn and Gohan were afforded a view of a very large, suit clad red man wrestling with a gate, which shook and trembled. Kuririn recognized him at once, of course.

"That's Enma-sama, he's the king and judge of all the souls when they die." He whispered to Gohan, as Popo prepared to tell and show the next leg of the tale.

"How do you know that?" Gohan whispered back. Kuririn's eyes narrowed in slight annoyance and pain, as previous painful memories reawoke.

"I've met him twice, remember?" Gohan winced, having momentarily forgotten that his friend _had_ died not once, but twice before. With a commodity such as the Dragonballs on hand, it was chilling to think that many of his friends _had_ passed beyond this frame of existence before…

He rubbed Kuririn's shoulder, which he could still feel and move in the physical realm, proof that they had best be careful with their movements, or they might find themselves suddenly snapped out of the illusion and hurtling towards Chikyuu, far below the Lookout. "Sorry Kuririn-san…" He sighed. Kuririn didn't get the opportunity to inform his friend that it was all right, because a moment later, the image was changing, and both Kuririn and Gohan watched, fascinated.

Enma's knees buckled, and a moment later he fell to the ground as the gate swung slightly open. He managed to hold onto it with one hand and keep it from bursting, even as his demonic attendants tried to assist him, but as Kuririn and Gohan observed, a handful of souls escaped before Enma managed to slam the gate shut and resume his struggle.

"These souls that escaped, fled to the nearest exit possible, for they knew Enma could soon secure the gate, and then bring them back. Their hiding place was here, on Chikyuu-sei."

The three were now standing on the same plain that their view had begun, with a twist, as they watched several long, wispy streaks flying through the air at high speeds in all directions, obviously the souls that had escaped.

"Being evil, and wishing for insurance that they would not be found and captured, they entered the minds of several humans that commanded formidable power. Once there, they very quickly turned them and took over their body's, defeating and binding both their minds and spirits before using their victims' body to inflict horrible deeds." Kuririn and Gohan watched as one such wisp entered a young man meditating in an ornate temple, as his attendants watched on. A moment later, the man leapt to his feet, eyes wide in anger and insanity, attacking the attendant nearest to him and dispatching him effortlessly before throwing another one of his attendants through a wall with inhuman strength, and dashing out into the wilderness.

"Not content with merely remaining in hiding, the humans possessed by these evil spirits began to wreak havoc, and it soon became clear to Kami that we had to intervene. Indeed, it was not long after we had decided upon this course of action when Enma-sama informed us that the souls had to be returned to the Afterlife soon, and if not, then he would be forced to seal the gate without them. They would forever be able to remain in our world. Because of this, there was another threat."

The view ended for a moment, spiraling again into the black void that Gohan and Kuririn had first discovered themselves seeing. Then, they saw before them a green glowing orb, with several orbs circling it in the same pattern, rapidly changing hues from virtually every color imaginable on the visual spectrum. Popo began speaking again, even as a slight "Ahhhhhhhh!" of astonishment escaped from Gohan's lips.

"Let this orb be a representative of Chikyuu-sei. The smaller orbs surrounding it represent the natural flow of ki that we all possess. This if a model of when everything is running smoothly, life is balanced, and the balance is not interrupted by the appearance of variable souls, which by themselves, would have no ki, not being what we would refer to as "alive". Now, watch what happens when an unexpected variable occurs. This has only been recorded as happening when magic is at work, or in the case Kami-sama and I experienced several years ago, when the souls had escaped to our world."

The large green orb shook slightly, and rumbled, before ballooning even larger, enveloping some of the orbs representing ki, sending them shaking and flying around, before contracting again. Then it rumbled again, and stretched out, elongating and again making contact with some of the ki orbs.

"That's it!" Kuririn suddenly shouted, as the image rapidly faded before them, the monk's shout startling Mr. Popo out of his concentration. Gohan turned and glanced at Kuririn, confusion etched onto his chibi-face.

"What's "it", Kuririn-san?" He asked plaintively. Kuririn smiled.

"That's what happened to us, don't you see? You told me you had lost control of your ki while you were flying. I lost it during the accident with the gravity chamber, and we had both lost it when we were trying to get back into the chamber to help Tenshinhan and Yamucha!" He pounded a fist into his hand. "It all fits!"

Gohan eyed Kuririn warily. "So you're saying whatever Popo-san just showed us is what's happening to us? What does that mean? Have souls escaped from the afterlife again, or is magic at work here?" Popo nodded.

"Magic could be at work here as well, but Kami and I only detected the escape of one soul to our world, which puzzled us. After all, it's not like Enma-sama to let a soul escape, and almost certainly, if there was a way to escape from the underworld, surely more than one soul would have escaped." Popo sighed. "It's all a mess, whatever it is."

Kuririn's eyes narrowed. With Son Goku not around, and with Kami-sama out, he was really the only person who could make a decision and lead, at this point, given Yamucha's and Tenshinhan's conditions. "So, what do we have to do to fix this? Do we know where this "Soul" is hiding, or whose it might be?" Popo glanced at Gohan meaningfully for a moment, which unnerved him. Finally, he decided it would be best to explain the method first, rather than shocking the child.

"There are two ways that the soul may be expelled rightfully back to the underworld. The first, and most simple method, is to kill the body. The problem is, that this will end the life of the victim as well, and their soul too will have to enter the Afterlife, where it will be judged in the normal way souls are judged. Of course, the evil soul will not be judged and will be pulled back to the Underworld, where it will usually be sentenced to eternal torment, while waiting to be completely cleansed." Kuririn nodded, hopeful that he wouldn't have to kill whatever innocent was likely being controlled by this soul.

"And the other method? It's not really fair to kill someone just because they were possessed… even if we _could_ resurrect them with the Dragonballs later…" His voice trailed off as he pondered this, before quickly shaking it from his mind. _"No, that'll only be the desperate option. No need to use the Dragonballs any more than necessary, and if whomever has been corrupted by this soul has died before, then…"_

Gohan knew what Kuririn was thinking, and shared it in silent agreement. He nodded to Mr. Popo. "Yes Popo-san, tell us! What's the other option?"

Popo sighed. "The other option is more complex, but…. It has already failed. If one enters the mind of the victim, they can aid the victim's mind, body, and soul in fighting to regain control, and force the evil soul out, but in this case… I don't think it can be done."

"Why not?" Kuririn asked, narrowing his eyes. That was when Popo finally lost it. He had been trying very hard to be brave, but as he had been continuing, his friends had failed to notice his clenched fist, the sweat droplets coming down his forehead, or his trembling lip. He wailed, before letting loose with his reason, spinning around and dropping down to his knees next to the fallen Kami.

"Because Kami-sama has already attempted to do so, and failed!" He shrieked, tearing his vest in despair and helplessness. Gohan and Kuririn both felt terrible instantly, having realized that they truly had failed to acknowledge the grief Mr. Popo must have been feeling.

Tears welled up in the small man's eyes, even as he attempted to continue. "He… he… entered the mind of the one possessed, and must have b-b-b-been de… de… deafea…" Popo broke off from his attempt, overwhelmed by his emotions. Kuririn and Gohan both felt for the man, because Kami was the cornerstone of his life, his duty, everything. Thought not as intensely saddened, Gohan knew the type of grief that he was experiencing, for he had felt it when they had learned of Son Goku's supposed death, before Dende had piped up and informed them that Porunga could resurrect someone more than once.

Kuririn moved to put his arm on Popo's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "C'mon, Mr. Popo! I understand how you feel… but we haven't lost yet! Kami isn't dead… I'm sure that wherever he is, somewhere, somehow, he can hear you and he's proud of you…" The soothing words had little effect on the man, which surprised Kuririn and Gohan.

"Popo-san, c'mon… it can't be that bad… We're here for you…" Gohan stammered. Though normally positive, the child was still concerned about Piccolo's absence, but hadn't seen fit to ask Popo if he knew anything yet. It simply wouldn't be polite, and this was not the time to discuss Kami's counterpart.

"You… you… you don't understand!" Popo wailed. "Kami-sama attempted to do battle in the mind of the one possessed, and… he told me… he… told me that if he was… defeated and rendered like this… that I should… should… kill him f-f-for the good of the Earth! Because if not… then… then… _he_ will take complete control of the one whose body and soul Kami was aiding, and commit horrible deeds once more!" Kuririn raised an eyebrow and scratched above his mouth, quirking his head at Popo.

"Kill Kami? To prevent an evil from being unleashed upon the Earth? Then that means… that means… the person who's been possessed is…" His eyes widened as the horrible fact dawned on him, and he immediately glanced to the left, where he knew Gohan was standing.

The look of utter disbelief, shock, dread, and fear etched into his companion's face said more then enough. Gohan was an intelligent child. Though Popo's words were filled with confusion, given the man's mental state and his normal backward way of talking, the same words kept repeating in his thoughts over and over.

"If killing Kami can save the Earth and keep the one being possessed from being unleashed, than that means… that means… No…"

"…Pic… Pic… PICCOLO-SAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

---

Piccolo approached the city, grinning maliciously even as he continued towards his targets, sensing their weak, pathetic ki's with… he hesitated, suddenly, closed his eyes, and concentrated on their ki's again.

"What is this? They're much more powerful then I once knew…" Piccolo spoke aloud, frowning.

"My only frame of reference is when that three-eyed fool was easily defeated by one of my children… I should have expected them to grow more powerful, but not this much, it's more then I could imagine…" A moment later, that thought dawned on him again, as he smiled, sifting through his son's memories. And a moment after that, he knew he had nothing to fear if he was careful. After all, _he _had also become more powerful than he could ever have imagined.

"Still, it would be best to be cautious…" The grin that had originally blossomed on Piccolo's face returned rapidly, and this time it was even more sinister, as he gripped his cape and began to tear it into shreds.

---

"Nani?" Tenshinhan shouted abruptly, eyes widening in surprise from the focused position they had been in before. Yamucha glanced at him, his voice weak, but the surge of adrenaline that continued to run through their bodies powering him.

"Tenshinhan? What is it?" Yamucha regarded his friend warily.

The larger man frowned, and shook his head. "The evil ki that was coming here, it suddenly… vanished. Stay on your guard, I don't know who or what it is, but perhaps it can mask itself as well as we can. It's almost as if…" Tenshinhan stopped in mid sentence, eyes narrowing as he focused on a black dot high in the sky, slowly growing larger as it plummeted towards them. "What the…?"

"Piccolo?!" Yamucha and Tenshinhan shouted, recognizing the falling figure crashing to the ground before them. He hit the ground hard with a thud, and rolled forward, face up, even as Yamucha and Tenshinhan sprinted towards him, shocked.

Piccolo's face was a mask of pain, smeared with purple blood from unseen wounds, his cape and gi marked with numerous tears and slits in them, even as he seemed to open one eye weakly, focusing on the two of them.

"Yamucha… Tenshin…han… it's… it's up there…" Piccolo raised one clawed, bloodstained hand, and pointed at a spot far in the sky behind them. Both of them spun around immediately, eyes searching as Piccolo seemed to lapse into unconsciousness.

"Where is he, Tenshinhan? I don't see him!" Yamucha yelled, his voice tense, and Tenshinhan nodded his frustration. In their search, they failed to notice Piccolo beginning to silently rise to his feet behind them…

---

Popo sighed wistfully, the wind billowing around him and seeming to agree with him. Kuririn stood in shocked silence, mind already circling with what Kami had entailed. Gohan had maintained enough of his composure to stare at Popo accusingly, his cheeks still stained with tears. Unexpectedly, he asked the question Kuririn had only been preparing to ask.

"Where is Piccolo now?" Gohan asked, sternly. To a child, even one as mature as he, the path was straight and narrow, and in his heightened state of emotional distress, he was going to be brief and to the point.

"What?" Popo asked.

Gohan glared, wishing he could ease his words or his feelings, but he didn't care about being gentle right now. Sadness had been replaced with rage, and determination. Rage that Kami would intone that he be killed, and thus unfairly end the life of his beloved Piccolo, and determination that Popo and Kami were wrong, that there was another way besides death, and besides the way in which Kami had failed. "I'm going to go talk to Piccolo-san, _right_ now."

Kuririn glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure that's wise, Gohan? Piccolo's power and body under the command of someone else… You're… none of us is strong enough to really engage him direc-."

"_Right_ now, Kuririn-san." Kuririn was impressed that in his anger, Gohan still could maintain respect for others. It was a rare trait, he thought, and one worthy of an honorable warrior. "There must be another way, and I'm going to find it, talk with Piccolo-san… Now… _where_ is he?"

Popo gulped, taken aback by the fierceness in the child's tone. Finally, he nodded meekly. "I'm sure I'll be able to see him from the edge." The man walked to the edge, and gazed down intently. A moment later he gasped, in shock or surprise, Gohan and Kuririn were not sure.

"What is it, Popo-san? Where is he?" Gohan snapped, voice more fearful than anger-filled, now.

"He's in the main city…" Popo said, dreadfully.

Kuririn read into his tone immediately, his mouth dropping in shock. "The city?! But that's where Bulma and the others are!" And in that dawning, horror-filled moment, he realized what he hadn't been doing. With the speed and ability of one trained as he, he sensed for ki's at once. Not surprisingly, he felt three ki's much larger then normal humans, two of them pulsing now and again, growing weaker. He turned to shout an instruction to Gohan, but the child had already vanished over the edge.

"Kuso!" He snarled, before vaulting off the edge himself. Behind him, Popo stared at the city, still alarmed, and for good reason. The chaos was descending…

---

Underneath the Tenkai, Karin tended his garden, delicately plucking a fifth senzu bean from the tree, and placing it in the small leather bag on the table behind him. He reached around and began to delicately pluck a sixth senzu when he felt a rush of air behind him, the proximity and speed so close that he lost his balance and toppled over, the senzu flying from his hand in one direction, the staff he supported himself with flying in the other.

He twitched a whisker and frowned, shaking his head. The winds were often peculiar at this time of year, even so high, but that had been the first time he had ever experienced anything like that. He chuckled for a moment.

"How invigorating for something new to happen around here," He mumbled, before turning around to check on the table and his bag of senzu. The bag was gone, having disappeared as if it had grown wings and flown off. Then, eyes catching movement, he peered at the table. It shook, ever so slightly, as if something had impacted upon it, and then, stopped moving.

"Curious…" He muttered, before shrugging his white shoulders, and turning around to assess his tree for damage.

---

As he hurtled through the air, Tenshinhan was aware of two things, two intimately close things. The first was that he had suddenly taken a massive, painful uppercut or similar blow to his back. The second awareness was a thought, purely tactical. _"Whoever or whatever hit me, he either wants to toy with us, or wishes to capture us…" _Tenshinhan knew this, because there was no way an opponent with the power and skill to hit him the way he did would miss or screw-up such an effortless chance at a simple strike to the back of the neck or head and end this battle before it had begun. A moment later he noticed the skyscraper looming up in front of him, and his eyes widened.

Quickly, he managed to focus his ki, and in one rapid burst, propelled himself to narrowly arc over the building. An instant later, he regained his composure in full and spinning around, eyes intently searching for whoever had struck him.

He was still searching when Yamucha appeared at his side, already breathing heavily, from the shock of the blow or from the exhaustion of his previous injuries, Tenshinhan couldn't tell.

The man narrowed his one good eye and voiced the same thought Tenshinhan had. "Did Piccolo hit us?!" Tenshinhan was about to reply when another voice entered the fray, coming from above them.

"Yes, he DID!" Piccolo exclaimed maniacally, already in mid-drop, his long legs angled perfectly to strike Tenshinhan and Yamucha in their chests, before they could do anything but balk in surprise. Both cried out in pain as they hurtled towards the ground; Tenshinhan's scream was louder. Being kicked in a spot where you already had broken ribs had that affect.

The two of them regained their control and brought their arms up in their own respective styles, expecting a counter-attack, but they received none.

Tenshinhan glared up at him, assessing their situation; They were too weak to put up a prolonged fight, and already badly injured. Perhaps they could reason with him. "Piccolo, why are you doing this?" Piccolo glared at them, his evil grin disappearing.

"Don't insult me with that name, it no longer has meaning for me after the disrespect and weakness stamped all over it! Now, you may only call me Diamaou." (That's Demon King for all you dub watchers, Piccolo's father and indeed he himself often were referred to as Piccolo Diamaou… All right, history lesson over… ) Piccolo sneered down at them. And then, he began to laugh, at both their wretchedness, weakness, and of course, his favorite reason. He saw fear in their eyes.

Tenshinhan's eyes widened. He had heard that laugh long ago, back when…

"Why have you betrayed us, Piccolo? What's wrong with you?!" Yamucha shrieked.

"Yamucha, don't, that's not really Pic-" Tenshinhan was cut off in mid-sentence as Piccolo swooped down past him, smashing Yamucha across the face and sending him flying into a nearby building.

"I am NOT PICCOLO!" Piccolo shrieked. "If you dare say that again, your life's extinguishing will be even more painful, understand? I'll tear you limb from li-…" Piccolo stopped talking abruptly as a large chunk of the building collapsed and hurtled towards the sidewalk far below.

Down on the sidewalk, young Katie Klementine, scarcely older then the age of 5, waved to her mother happily, as her mother motioned for her to cross the street again. She had recently learned the proper way of looking both ways to cross the street, and had been quite eager to show off her new found skills. A moment later, her mother's smile vanished and changed to an open mouth, accompanied with a scream. The child noticed the curious shadow accompanying her, and stared up to see the large chunk of concrete rapidly descending… A split-second later, her scream rivaled her mother's on levels of fear and helplessness…

---

Tenshinhan gaped as the block fell, in his position he was neither quick enough to reach the girl, or strong enough to blast it to smithereens. He could only watch, praying to Kami, as…

Piccolo screamed and barreled towards the ground, tattered cape and turban trailing behind him, having already been thrown off to add to his desperate speed…

---

Katie closed her eyes tight, unable to watch the crushing block that was about to become her death, tears streaming down her face…

And jostled by a slight impact she felt in her side before feeling a rush of air accompanying her… Tentatively she opened her eyes, and found her staring into the face of a gently smiling… _monster_.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" She shrieked, realizing she was not only being held by this monster but flying through the air, wind rushing through her long, auburn hair. A moment later she found herself thrust into her mother's grateful arms.

Katie's mother didn't know what to make of this tall, leering, green man, but he had saved her daughter the only joy in her life, and that was enough for her. "Sankyuu!" She exclaimed!

Piccolo nodded once, still smiling gently… And then his eyes rolled up his head before returning, and his evil grin followed this return. He spoke sharply, and his tone chilled the woman and her child to the bone. "I was careless to let you take control like that, you fool. These cattle aren't worth our concern, I'll show you how to deal with them!" And then, he raised his arm as purple light began to encircle it. Katie and her mother gasped in shock as they began to feel the wash of noticeable heat emanating from where a ball of vicious looking purple hues was forming in the stranger's hand.

"Now die, fools!" Piccolo exclaimed, even as the mother and her child screamed and squeezed their eyes shut, clutching each other… but they felt no heat, only hearing a loud, "OOOOOF!" As their eyes flew open to catch the sight of a young, battered man with a scarred face tackling their rescuer/antagonizer. The man swung his head around at them.

"Get out of here, NOW! Run as fast as you can!" Yamucha exclaimed, even as Piccolo threw him off of his chest and vaulted after him, snarling in defiance and rage.

He was about to strike when he sensed a ki near him, and spun in mid-flight and dived away as Tenshinhan hurtled past him, the bald man's kick missing him by mere inches. Quickly, Piccolo grabbed it before Tenshinhan could recover, and began to swing him around his body, again and again, before letting go and sending his attacker smashing into a building and collapsing it as the man impacted...

Piccolo smiled cruelly, noting that Tenshinhan was not rising from the dust and shattered rubble. He was still alive, of course, he could sense that, but from the extreme weakness of the ki he felt, Tenshinhan would not be breathing much longer, even without further assistance from his capable, death-dealing hands.

He felt Yamucha's ki hurtling rapidly back at his exposed neck, and brought a forearm up with blinding speed, blocking the open-handed chop before grabbing the man's arm with his free hand and swinging Yamucha around into his grasp, arms around the struggling warrior's neck and chest.

Piccolo leaned in close, whispering victoriously in Yamucha's ear, even as Yamucha closed his eyes in resignation, knowing that with any moment, Piccolo would snap his neck. "You and your friend were fools for trying to resist me… But believe me, your friends will soon join you in hell…"

"Piccolo… don't do this…" Yamucha managed to choke. And then, surprisingly, Piccolo obeyed, releasing Yamucha from his grasp. "W…what?" He gazed into Piccolo's maliciously grinning face, accompanied with cruel eyes.

"I told you not to call me that… I _did_ say I was going to tear you limb from limb if you called me that again…" He began to laugh cruelly, even as he grabbed Yamucha's right arm before Yamucha could react and pull it away. Yamucha screamed, as Piccolo began to pull. "Don't worry, I'll do it slow, that way you'll feel every tendon, joint, muscle, and bone yielding to the unending pressure and pai-…"

"PICCOLO!" The shout rang out from overhead, but it wasn't Tenshinhan, of course, he was still lying unconscious in the collapsed building. Piccolo glanced up, surprised, at the new silhouette, which had appeared against the sun. Yes, this was the one he had been seeking most of all… He released Yamucha, even as the man grunted out the newcomer's name as he eased himself towards the ground, cradling his broken arm.

"Gohan!"

Indeed it was Gohan, staring down at Piccolo with a look of fear, sadness, and ferocity all rolled up into one, the child's hair swaying gently in the wind. He felt another ki behind and below him next to Tenshinhan's, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Kuririn, that pathetic excuse for a Tenkaichi-budokai finalist, if I'm not mistaken… I thought Tambourine had killed him long ago…" Nonetheless, sifting through Piccolo's memories, Diamaou knew the man was something to be feared, albeit not too terribly more powerful than Yamucha and Tenshinhan. The monk had been trying to be discreet, but Piccolo knew what he had been doing. He glanced up at Gohan and smiled cruelly.

"Your friend can give Tenshinhan and Yamucha all the senzu they want… in the end, they'll die anyway. I'll kill you all." Piccolo challenged.

"This is all I need to do… just twist the whip, make him desperate for resolution…" He lunged at Gohan suddenly and gripped him between his arms as the child made little attempt to maneuver away.

"Piccolo-san? What are you doing?" Gohan stammered, even as Piccolo grinned evilly, at him. _"I need him smashed, confused, his mind and spirit in emotional turmoil…"_ A moment later Piccolo's face suddenly softened slightly, as his body was stuck with a quick shaking, before his eyes vanished for a moment and returned.

Still in his grip, Gohan could only stare into Piccolo's tortured, pain-filled eyes. And as the adage went, Gohan was suddenly staring into the windows of the soul. Not the soul that had come to possess his mentor's body, but the rightful soul that inhabited it, the real Piccolo, the living Piccolo that he knew so well. "Go…han? Help… me…" Piccolo managed to croak, even as Gohan blinked, tears streaming down his face. The look of pain and suffering in his mentor's eyes had been that great.

"Piccolo…? What can I do to… he- PICCOLO-SAN!" Gohan's plea turned back into a shriek as Piccolo's body wracked with a quick convulsion, before his eyes turned back into the cruel harsh ones that had been there a moment before. Quite cruelly, and knowing the turmoil he was causing, Piccolo smiled.

"Gohan! Defend yourself, you know he's not what he seems!" Kuririn shouted, muscles tensed and ready to leap to his friend's aid if he refused or failed to obey. Piccolo glared down at him, and released Gohan, who could only continue to stare at his master and try to rein in his fear and sorrow.

"It will be difficult for the final step here… I'm sure they'll be perfectly willing to go and die where there are less… distractions…" Piccolo laughed harshly, eyes wavering to Kuririn, and the now recovered Tenshinhan and Yamucha, before glancing back up at the torn Gohan, who was plainly unsure whether to attack or not. Piccolo spread his arms open, gesturing around himself at the buildings around, and smirking before locking his gaze on Kuririn, Tenshinhan, and Yamucha.

"You care for all these weaklings around here, do you not? Perhaps we should do battle elsewhere… say… over there?" Piccolo extended one arm to the east, where far off in the distance loomed a mountain range, untouched by civilization.

Kuririn knew an opportunity to turn what could be a complete loss into a partial one, and nodded almost immediately.

Piccolo turned, and was flying off towards the mountains without granting a reply, and by unspoken agreement, Kuririn, Yamucha, and Tenshinhan followed, as Gohan trailed behind, sobbing bitterly.

_"Piccolo-san… No…"_

And in his throbbing heart, against the storm clouds that darkened the distant valley that they were fast approaching, Son Gohan contemplated if he would have to fight the only other man that had truly meant anything in life besides his father.

---

Well, there we have it, chapter five. I'll readily admit that I was ready to continue on with this chapter and make it even longer… But I figure, I've left everyone who's taken an interest in this story hanging long enough. To add to the fun… Well, let's just say that my comp nearly crashing inspired me to get this done and post it. Really, I offer my assurances that I'll get the story finished, but I am currently doing all the Senior year in High school stuff of applying to colleges, finding a nice part-time job, getting my rear kicked during football practices (looooooooooong story), etc. etc. So although this story isn't the highest thing on my list of priorities right now, I thank you all for your patience. It could still be awhile before this story is finally done… ^^;;;; But I'll do my best to try and make sure there's not a three month gap between this chapter and the next one like last time… :-D


	6. Tainted Soul Chapter 6

Tainted Soul  
  
By Cremrock  
  
Chapter 6  
  
  
  
On a rocky bluff, high above the desolate valley where the battle would take place, a lone figure stood, his cape swirling behind him. The grim, dark visage of his face seemed parallel only to the darkness of the gathering storm clouds overhead, as if the elements themselves knew his plan was unnatural, and were voicing their disapproval.  
  
Piccolo waited, his arms folded across his chest, eyes locked on four tiny dots on the distant horizon, slowly drifting towards him. He scowled at the note of how slow they were going, knowing for certain that they were most likely discussing how they would deal with him.  
  
"Their desire to save their friend is foolish, don't you agree?" Piccolo uttered, a statement directed at no one but the dust below him and the wind around him. He smiled lightly, as if receiving a response, and then nodded his agreement. "Oh, you're right, I suppose. Were I in your shoes, perhaps I would do the same, but I'm not, I'm in my son's shoes. It doesn't matter. Much like you, I have learned patience. Diamaou, the king of demons, could do no less. I merely quiver with anticipation, because when I slaughter them, then everything will come to pass as I have planned, and my revenge will be complete." He paused, cocked his head slightly, and chuckled. "You disapprove? I wouldn't, I do believe I'm being rather lenient in giving you your chance to live again as well. You've helped me, but now? You have no choice in this matter. No one does, except me. I am your Lord and master, and if you oppose me, I'll destroy you, just as I'll destroy everyone else. I can do, no less." And with that statement, he laughed harshly, the cackling echoing all around him. The wind, and the dust, of course, remained silent, and Piccolo ceased talking, and continued to wait.  
  
It would not be much longer, he mused.  
  
---  
  
Actually, how they were going to deal with Piccolo wasn't the topic of discussion, yet. No, for the moment, that wasn't even second on Kuririn's mind. He had taken charge of the situation with Yamucha's and Tenshinhan's approval, and the monk had already stated that they were going to fly as slow as it would take to get everything they needed to discuss immediately done. "We need Gohan fighting with a clear mind and heart if we're going to have any chance of subduing Piccolo… I'd better talk to him first."  
  
The three of them eased up a bit and fell back towards Gohan; It would spare their vocal cords a lot of wear and tear if they didn't have to yell to each other, and Kuririn knew that Nameksei-jin had auditory abilities well above that of humans and Saiya-jin… They would have to be careful that he couldn't hear what they were talking about, for that might give him an advantage.  
  
  
  
The child had stopped crying. His face was now frozen in the heart- wrenching expression that one would have immediately after or when trying very hard not to cry beforehand, the look was more saddening and more evident of the emotional upheaval the events were having on Gohan. Even more so than if the child was actually crying at the moment, Kuririn mused.  
  
Kuririn was smart enough to know not to ask the incredibly ignorant question of "Are you all right?", it was plainly obvious he was not. Unfortunately, he was still trying to form exactly what he was going to say to console the child in his mind, when Yamucha beat him to the punch by speaking first in his normal, upbeat way.  
  
"Hey Gohan, are you all right?" Yamucha asked, even as Kuririn mentally chided his friend.  
  
Gohan's response was to merely look at him with that pain-filled face, lip trembling slightly, before moving his head up and down in such a slight notion that it could scarcely be a nod, although it was intended to be.  
  
"Poor Gohan… even in the state he's in now, he's still conscious of being polite and responding to an adult's question… He's a better man then I am, sometimes." Kuririn thought. Nonetheless, despite his conversational shortcomings, Yamucha exuded confidence, and Kuririn wouldn't interrupt him, perhaps the man's way of speaking could help Gohan feel better. And, despite his lack of knowledge about what was going on, Yamucha did know the reason for Gohan's sadness, or at least, could guess it as well as Kuririn had.  
  
"Gohan, do you want to talk about it?" Yamucha asked gently. Kuririn sighed inwardly, hoping that Yamucha did indeed know what it was… Kuririn knew, of course. What else could it be, except finding out your beloved master had been possessed, might have to die, and might have to be fought, hopefully not killed, by his own hands.  
  
Gohan shook his head, and Kuririn glanced away for a moment to check on their position even as Yamucha sighed softly and continued flying in silence; Piccolo was about twenty minutes away at their current speed, he wouldn't have to adjust anything yet.  
  
Tenshinhan flew close to Yamucha and whispered something in the man's ear before beckoning Kuririn to come back beside him; A moment later, Yamucha flew to where Kuririn had been a moment later, and watched Piccolo intently as they continued their slow approach.  
  
"What did you say to him?" Kuririn whispered to the larger man, glancing into his eyes... Well, two of them, at any rate.  
  
Tenshinhan smiled faintly, happy to divulge his information, but obviously knowing how serious the situations were, both the upcoming battle and Gohan's emotional state at the moment. "I just told him to keep an eye on Piccolo, and let you and I handle Gohan… Yamucha's confidence isn't quite what Gohan needs right now; he needs information… How to deal with what he's feeling… I can guess what he's going through."  
  
"How would you know how he could deal with it, Ten?" Kuririn asked, curiously.  
  
Tenshinhan glanced away. "As you'll recall several years ago, I did leave my master when Kamesennin (The Turtle Master, A.K.A. Muten Roshi) convinced me to stop learning the arts of assassination and follow my own path. I can understand, at least on a smaller scope than he, the turmoil one must go through at the prospect of having to fight their own master, even though I didn't actually engage him in combat." Tenshinhan's voice trailed off, as he glanced back at Gohan. "Before I talk with him, what's going on? Is that really Piccolo?"  
  
Kuririn shook his head and glanced at him grimly. "He's got Piccolo's body, but he's not Piccolo… it's worse. Popo was cryptic when he explained it, but in short, Piccolo's been possessed by a soul from the afterlife. Kami tried to stop it but failed, so now he's not going to be able to help us… And it gets worse, but it might be our only option. If Piccolo can't be stopped, Kami has instructed Popo to kill him. Popo-san won't do it, I know how he acts… if we fail, and you have to promise me you'll do it if I die…" Kuririn glanced back at Gohan before continuing, and Tenshinhan knew what he meant. The decision was his, Gohan or no Gohan, however devastating that might be. "No matter what. I don't mean to sound harsh, but Piccolo's got enough power to devastate the world, and unless Son were to show up, no one'd be left to oppose him…"  
  
Tenshinhan nodded, but a faint look of confusion was on his face. "Hold on a second, Kuririn. How is it that Piccolo is so powerful if he's not in control of his own body? I mean, whoever is in control would have to be in harmony with his body still… and that means it would have to be Kami, right?"  
  
Kuririn glanced down at the surface, and frowned. "No, Tenshinhan. There's only one other soul that would be able to be in harmony with his with Piccolo's body. I don't know what he was like… but I know what he's capable of ordering his servants to do…" Kuririn broke off, shuddering.  
  
Tenshinhan felt a chill pass through him. "You can't be serious?" He asked pointedly, eyes narrowed.  
  
Kuririn nodded. "Yes, it's him… And I don't know what we are going to do. If you have the chance to kill him… Well, you'd better take it, understand? I'd prefer that we can capture him and find a way that the Piccolo we know doesn't have to die, but… The stakes are too high. Understand?"  
  
Tenshinhan nodded. He had seen the evil that Piccolo's father was capable of firsthand, indeed, had been willing to sacrifice his own life to stop it. If he had to, he would end Piccolo's life to spare the world the torment that it would undoubtedly receive at the hands of his father.  
  
"You'd better go fill Yamucha in on this, Kuririn. I'll go talk to Gohan." With that, he slipped backwards until the child was nearly alongside him.  
  
Gohan continued to fly in silence, and failed to acknowledge Tenshinhan's approach, as he was still caught up in his own emotions and really wasn't paying much attention, his face a mask of sorrow.  
  
"It's a little lonely back here, wouldn't you say, Gohan? I don't even need to use all three of my eyes to see that." Tenshinhan quipped. Gohan glanced at him, but remained silent. Of course, Tenshinhan hadn't really expected him to say anything, but at least the boy hadn't indicated that he wanted to be left alone. Very well, he would try sympathy first. "I know that you're worried about Piccolo, Gohan."  
  
Gohan didn't seem to move, but a moment later, he spoke his first words in an hour, voice soft. "Yes. I am."  
  
Tenshinhan continued. "But there's something else that's bothering you, right? Why don't you talk to me about it? I'm older than Kuririn and the others… I might be able to help you… deal with it."  
  
Gohan swiveled his head to look at Tenshinhan, and in his eyes saw something he had never expected to see in the man whom he knew little about when he got right down to it. Yamucha had often told of his accomplishments, and Gohan knew Kuririn very well, but aside from on the battlefield, the child realized just how little he knew of Tenshinhan.  
  
"Piccolo's in pain… and there's nothing I can do. I was about to hit him… well, Diamaou in his body, anyway, and… and… Diamaou lost control, and Piccolo begged me to help him… the pain… that horrible look of despair in his eyes… And I can't do ANYTHING about it!" Quite unexpectedly, and building with each word, the sadness in the child's voice overturned into rage. And then, as his voice died down, turned back into a sigh. "Except hurt him… Betray him."  
  
Tenshinhan sighed inwardly, feeling the child's pain, because he knew it so well himself, as he had told Kuririn. Granted, the situations were far different, but not entirely.  
  
"You don't know that, Gohan… Oftentimes what we think is different from what we really feel. I was in your shoes once." That caught Gohan off guard, as he turned his head suddenly and stared at him?  
  
"Loyalty is one thing… thinking of loyalty is important, but not the most important. I was training to be an assassin once… and my training blinded me, my devotion to my master shielded me from what was truly right. Kamesennin showed me that I was wrong, but at first… it still felt like betrayal." Gohan blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering what he was getting at. "The important thing was to follow your own heart, at least, that was the way it was for me… You're lucky, though."  
  
"Lucky? How?!" Gohan demanded bitterly.  
  
Tenshinhan sighed and spoke again. "Because in your heart, though pain may make you think otherwise, you know what's right… and more importantly, what he would want. You saw what he did to that city… He has to be subdued, somehow."  
  
He didn't want to accept it, admit it, or acknowledge it, but in his heart, Gohan knew that Tenshinhan was right. What would Piccolo think? He had asked him for help, but he knew his mentor… Piccolo would want him to make a difference, as he had done so many times in the past, and most likely would in the future.  
  
Gohan glanced down at the ground, wiped away a single tear, and glanced back up at Tenshinhan. "I'll fight…" Tenshinhan nodded. "…because it's what he would want. But we're only going to stop him… nothing more… right?" Gohan's eyes were pleading, despite the stability in his voice.  
  
Tenshinhan didn't want to lie to the child, because short of death, he wasn't sure if the four of them could stop Piccolo. He was glad that Gohan couldn't read his thoughts or his heart, because he knew that if it was the only way he could keep the world safe he would send Piccolo to his death without a moment's hesitation. He had seen what Piccolo's father could do, and had no urge to see it again.  
  
And as he nodded to Gohan, he couldn't help but feel he was telling the child an outright lie. Ahead of them, the mountains dropped down into the valley. Their flight, discussion, and Piccolo's wait; had all come to an end.  
  
---  
  
Dust swirled around his feet as Kuririn landed, with Tenshinhan, Yamucha, and, as he was glad to see, Son Gohan taking position behind him. He had no doubt that Tenshinhan had succeeded in convincing Gohan to fight, but he wanted to be sure. This was no time to be relying on help that might not be available.  
  
He flashed his distinctive smile, the one that the child had seen so often during their trip to Nameksei and their subsequent adventures there. "Hey Gohan, are you ready? It's nice to see you here."  
  
Gohan nodded curtly, and with that little detail seen too, Kuririn felt the familiar twinge of fear burrow into his core. It was always this way before a battle, that slight hint of self-doubt, of "What if I can't do enough to help," or "What if we lose because of my decisions?" It was times like these that he missed his friend Son Goku's companionship the most; Goku would never let them down, was always confident, and though he normally took the simplest path towards getting something done, it was often the right one.  
  
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Like it or not, he was here, and he forced himself to believe that no matter what happened, his decisions would be correct. And if not, he would ensure that he paid for them, and no one else. He glanced around warily, scanning the landscape.  
  
Piccolo couldn't be plotting an ambush… the chances were too slim with the four of them clustered together, looking in different directions… From the same perspective, he surely couldn't hide from all of them or be missed… He scanned the large spire of rock looming about ten feet in front of him, spanning about 10 feet.  
  
Suddenly, from behind them, in precisely the one spot where their attention hadn't been diverted, was a loud crash. They swirled around immediately, hands raised in their respective defensive postures. Too late did they realize that the sound had come from the impact of a large rock being thrown against another, and a moment later, the shadow of the spire had gotten longer, with a decidedly non-rock shadow at the top. Filled with dread, Kuririn realized their mistake and he braced himself for an attack…  
  
…that never came, as a thunderous laugh echoed into their ears, carrying tones of cruelty and amusement on it's wings.  
  
High above them, floating in the air, was Piccolo. Immediately a chill passed through Kuririn as he visibly shuddered, and what's more, he knew that behind him his friends had shuddered too; he heard Yamucha gasp. The Nameksei-jin's glare was so fierce that it seemed to bore through them, and they knew from the look in his eyes… That whatever had transpired was not meant to be, totally against the rules of both nature, and the spirit realm.  
  
"You are all fools for coming here, you know. This will be the spot of both a death… and a rebirth. Unfortunately, you're all…" Piccolo stopped speaking for a moment, and grinned darkly. "Going to be the death, but sadly, you won't be able to witness the rebirth."  
  
A harsh breeze began to blow around Kuririn, and a moment later, with shocking speed, Piccolo dropped down in front of him. His reflexes and speed were sufficient enough to see the Nameksei-jin's descent, but his mind was still reeling from the audacity of it all- If Piccolo could maintain a speed like that…  
  
"Well buddy, you're certainly not going to be able to stand up long to that." He thought grimly. He glanced very quickly at the rest of his friends. Maybe Gohan…  
  
He glared back at Piccolo, trying his very best to feel brave, when in reality he wanted to scream in terror. He had always been afraid of Piccolo even when he was fighting on their side, and now… Well, he tried to remind himself it wasn't the Piccolo he knew, but Diamaou… though having been killed by one of Diamaou's children long ago, it wasn't very reassuring.  
  
"Might as well try to buy some time, maybe an opportunity will present itself." Kuririn mused.  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
Diamaou regarded the shorter man with a smirk.  
  
"Why, to tear you all apart, to make you feel the same pain I did, as that bastard of a boy tore through my innards… And most of all, to extract revenge, both on Son Goku… and the biggest betrayer of all." He smiled as he noted Gohan stiffen at these words. The child knew whom Diamaou could be referring too. "Yes, that will do nicely… now to twist the knife a bit before going in for the kill."  
  
With an offhand shrug, Diamaou continued his spiel. "Although of course, I suppose one half of my revenge has already been extracted… My son was no match for me. And it gets better, now that he's given me this wonderful body of his; with which I will destroy you."  
  
Kuririn sensed Ki's building up behind him, and he knew Tenshinhan and Yamucha were preparing themselves. Further behind still, there was an erratic ki… it was almost as if Gohan was angry enough to unleash his power, but he was trying to hold himself back. As if to confirm this, he heard the child choke down a sob.  
  
"Damn it Gohan… We can't deal with this… not now… Kuririn gritted his teeth, trying desperately to think of a way to stall for time, in hopes that the child could compose himself.  
  
The monk clenched his fists and tried to look intimidating. "And what will you do after that?"  
  
Diamaou smiled in a way most unlike Piccolo, showing all his teeth. "Quit stalling, Kuririn. You know the answer to that well enough." And with that final remark, he charged at Kuririn, slamming his elbow into the monk's jaw before he could even bring his hands up. The battle had begun.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou grinned evilly as the monk flew backwards, shrieking in pain, but before he could follow-up the blow, two more of his opponents were upon him; Yamucha and Tenshinhan. Immediately he went on the defensive as punches and kicks flailed at him in multiple directions: He blocked one, dodged two more, and responded in kind as the air rushed around him. Tenshinhan and Yamucha were attacking so furiously that Diamaou noted they were breathing heavily, while he didn't even feel a twinge of weariness yet. Soon they would tire… And it was at that moment, in his own self- confidence, that it happened.  
  
"Now!" Tenshinhan shouted, and the three-eyed man backflipped out of the way, at least for the moment.  
  
At this precise time, Yamucha dramatically changed the scope of his attack and smashed into Diamaou head on, sacrificing his defenses for the reckless attack. Diamaou's arm lashed out as he was being driven back, and even as he reeled backwards, he was pleased to hear the sharp crack of Yamucha's arm being broken. The man screamed in pain and fell away from the Nameksei- jin, clutching his shoulder…  
  
But for a moment, Diamaou felt himself reeling, off-balance and disoriented. He knew he had to bring his arms up, to balance and defend himself, managing to stop his momentum, gasping for a breath. Despite the charge, he was still relatively unscathed, and Yamucha had been knocked out of the fight. He smiled, but a moment later, his smile turned into a look of shock and horror, as he realized that he had made a crucial mistake. Tenshinhan wasn't in his line of sight. Even as he realized this fact, he heard a harsh, primal shout from the air above him.  
  
---  
  
"SHIN-KIKOHOU!" Tenshinhan shrieked, his fingers and hands spread in a perfect triangle, with Diamaou far below, in the center of the triangle. Diamaou had time only to bring one arm up in a desperate effort to block the strike, before he was engulfed completely by the glowing energy that emanated from Tenshinhan's hands...  
  
---  
  
Diamaou shrieked; never before had he felt such intense pain, and he was amazed just as much that somehow, his body was withstanding it. The flesh on his arm was rapidly blackening, and through the purple haze of boiling blood that was dripping across his rapidly disintegrating arm, Diamaou concocted a desperate strike, not even fully knowing if it would work, for the technique he was about to employ was not truly his own… He knew only that by sifting through his son's thoughts and memories, that it was the only chance in hell he had, as he desperately touched the fingers of his good hand to his forehead before thrusting them square in the direction opposite of the ki that was battering him.  
  
"MAKKANKOSAPPO!"  
  
---  
  
From the distance, Kuririn watched in amazement, as Diamaou seemed to disappear within Tenshinhan's blast. He wanted to whoop with joy at the successful attack, but he held himself back. He had witnessed similar attacks strike Freezer several times during the battles on Nameksei, but they had never resulted in victory, though surely even Piccolo's body couldn't withstand a blast like that for long…  
  
And then the joy that permeated Kuririn turned to horror, as Tenshinhan's blast ended abruptly, though the man was still screaming. The reason for that was obvious enough, as Kuririn watched the tail end of Diamaou's Makkankosappo continue it's gruesome path through Tenshinhan's left shoulder. The man hurtled out of the sky, and crashed to the ground before Kuririn could reach him. The man was certainly still alive, but also out of the fight. Nearby, Yamucha lie unconscious, apparently having been knocked out by the force of Diamaou's counterattack mere moments before Tenshinhan had unleashed his own.  
  
Kuririn glanced around furiously; surely Diamaou was badly injured in that attack. He knew that their best chance to win the battle would be to hit Diamaou as hard as he possibly could before the Nameksei-jin could regenerate. He knew that Nameksei-jin regeneration would result in a dramatic drop in their power, but he had no idea of how long that would be… Or even if a drop in Piccolo's power would enable him to fight with him on equal terms, since Yamucha and Tenshinhan would be no help now.  
  
"Where is he?" Kuririn flew up into the air, hoping for a better look. Several hundreds of yards below and to the left of him, was Diamaou, crawling over to a stunned figure clad in purple. What was more, the figure wasn't attempting to fight, but was running to the Nameksei-jin with a more desperate gait than one of a warrior about to deal a finishing blow.  
  
"Gohan…" Kuririn muttered softly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get there in time, even as he dived towards their location as fast as his weakened body could propel itself.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou scrabbled towards Gohan as rapidly as he could, even as the child approached. "This is going too well," Diamaou thought maliciously, even as he winced through the pain that shot through his ruined arm. "Now I'll be able to make the fool believe that I'm his beloved mentor and that I'm hurt, and then…" Diamaou found it hard to suppress the chuckle, but managed it. Everything was indeed going his way. It was now just a matter of time.  
  
---  
  
Gohan's vision was blurred with his tears, as he staggered forward, his physical self unhurt, but his emotions and state of mind aching with regret. Far away, perhaps 150 meters distant, Piccolo crawled towards him at a much slower rate, his eyes seeming to burn with pain, and a silent plea for help. The child really had no idea that it was a trap, so captivated was he by the damaged form of his beloved master.  
  
What the child was aware of was the orange and pink blur that raced down to meet Piccolo from high in the sky. Shrieking a cry of warning, though Gohan paid it no heed. What he was aware of was the luminescent flash as Diamaou's leapt to his feet and, despite his ruined arm, met Kuririn head on. There was a brief exchange of blows, a yelp of surprise, and before Gohan really realized what was going on, the monk was blasted away from Piccolo with a flash of ki, sending him hurtling backwards into the body of a nearby cliff. Kuririn crashed into it and fell to the ground, lying very still, but apparently alive.  
  
That was the first inkling Gohan had to snap him out of his trance, but it would prove to be little, too late. Piccolo was upon him, an imposing presence even with the lack of an arm, and the smile the Nameksei-jin wore was not the half-disgusted, half-loving grin that Gohan knew so well, but rather a malevolent, cruel smile. Somehow, though his emotions were still reeling from what he knew he might have to do, the child found his voice.  
  
"Piccolo-san… why are you doing this?" Diamaou's only response was to broaden his grin and advance upon the child. Gohan staggered back a few steps, but a quick glance around reminded him of how badly hurt his friends were; somehow, he gained the resolve to finally stop and stand his ground. His eyes narrowed; he tried to look imposing, but his heart still wasn't in it.  
  
"I said… why are you doing this?" Diamaou stepped forward until he loomed directly over Gohan. He leaned in closer even, until even the sunlight on Gohan's face was masked by the darkened shade that Diamaou provided. He finally spoke then, his voice an evil whisper; whether Piccolo was possessed or not, Gohan had never heard him whisper before.  
  
"It's simple really, child… Because you are the strongest… You are his son… And because this seemed the easiest way…" He smirked slightly, and Gohan found that grin far more similar to the one of the Piccolo he knew, yet somehow a twisting, haunting form of it. "…To get you to… LOWER YOUR DEFENSES!" Diamaou finished triumphantly, grabbing Gohan by the neck with such speed that the child scarcely even twitched backwards in surprise before Diamaou's good hand was around his throat, pointed nails digging ever so slightly into his tender, trembling flesh.  
  
Slowly, the Nameksei-jin began to chuckle, his grip constricting Gohan's throat until the child could no longer breathe, as his eyes rolled up in his head, his body deprived of air. Within the minute, the child was unconscious. In a few more minutes, the child would be dead.  
  
---  
  
Kuririn was in a world of pain, and though he could hardly think straight, he was forced to acknowledge that he certainly felt this way a lot more often than he had in the younger days. Every nerve, every synapse in his body was telling him that it wanted nothing more than for him to simply fall apart, but the monk knew that nothing was broken. No, this was the pain he was familiar with, as if he was just a punching bag and someone had elected to train the entire day away on him; he felt as if he should not be fair-skinned at the moment, but one great blob of black and blue.  
  
Nonetheless, he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. His head felt as if it had been split in two, but somehow he managed to open his eyes. And what he saw terrified him and intrigued him at the same time, as Diamaou stood in the distance, lifting the unconscious Gohan to the sky and laughing like a madman.  
  
"No! Gohan! Curse it, if I could only move…" But moving was the last thing Kuririn felt like doing. He could only watch, terrified, praying to everyone, anything, that Diamaou would not take the next step, that is, destroy Gohan in anyway possible. He focused himself, trying to regain what little strength he could… but he knew that in his weakened form, a Kienzan would only run the risk of flying wildly out of control, missing completely at best, or at worse, doing the very job it seemed Diamaou would do when he was finished gloating; kill Gohan.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou laughed, eager to snuff out the child's life force like a candle, his brute instincts and every desire combining to tell him that killing the boy would bring him immense satisfaction. But his mind, and something else, held him back. It was too simple to kill the boy, and had that been his plan, he would have burned the boy's head to a crisp, or thrust a clawed hand through his abdomen, spreading his entrails for the world to see.  
  
Instead, he laughed again, finally speaking; no, screaming into the open air, even though all who were around to hear were unconscious, except for those who mattered most… those that were still inside him.  
  
"Well, it's about time for the boy to die, don't you think? You've proved to be far too weak to do anything so far, but just to persuade you, perhaps I need to do something like this!"  
  
Diamaou threw Gohan to the ground, and stomped on his chest with just the right amount of force to damage the child, but not to destroy his life, as the sharp crack of two ribs breaking was all that he knew his counterpart needed to hear. He cocked his head slightly, listening to the voice inside of him.  
  
"I disagree, my friend. I believe this to be completely necessary, and if you want your release as well, then you'll let me conduct my business, as only I know how!" Diamaou laughed, relishing the ecstatic feeling of triumph that would soon surge through him. To pass the time, he would simply break a few more ribs. That would convince him. And then, he stopped his attack on Gohan abruptly, as his lips parted with a scream of pain following.  
  
Despite the intense pain, it was the moment of his wildest victory; all that he had schemed and fought for would come to pass within a few short moments. The triumph almost made the pain seem… fun.  
  
---  
  
Kuririn watched, his eyebrows quirked in surprise, even as he wondered what on Chikyuu was going on. A moment ago, he had been feeling completely helpless as Diamaou had been brutally torturing the child's unconscious form, and now? Now it seemed as if Diamaou was being tortured himself, as his screams tore through the valley.  
  
A moment later, there was a bright flash of white light, similar in intensity to Tenshinhan's Taiyoken (Solar Flare) technique, but far less blinding; within a moment, the monk could see again. Or so he thought. Diamaou was standing, unmoving, seemingly dazed for a moment. Kuririn found that surprising. But what he found even more surprising were the fact that his vision seemed to have tripled. Where there had stood one Nameksei-jin, Diamaou, there were now three, one with Diamaou's cruel grin etched onto his stunned face, one with a look of stoic calmness, and the third… the third one's expression was the most difficult to gaze into of all, even from Kuririn's sizable distance. Yet there was something wrong, something missing… confidence? In those eyes, but Kuririn knew, somehow, that that Nameksei-jin was the real Piccolo, Ma Junior.  
  
And that was when Kuririn received another brutal shock, as he realized that he didn't just recognize Piccolo and Diamaou, but that he knew the Nameksei-jin with the calm expression as well. He had seen it a year ago, on Nameksei, and though he could not say he knew the person who owned the face well, he knew of him. It was Neru.  
  
Neru, Piccolo Diamaou, and Ma Junior, together. To say it was what he expected was an understatement. Certainly, he could understand it, as the body was originally Piccolo's, and he had heard that Neru had joined with him… and it obviously didn't take any explanation to explain Diamaou's appearance, but…  
  
"What the heck is going on?" He thought.  
  
He still did not feel well enough to move, as the three regained their functionality and blinked, slowly emerging from their trancelike state. Like it or not, he would find out soon enough. He just prayed that what had just happened would be for the best, and not three madmen instead of one. In front of them, at the Nameksei-jin feet, Gohan began to stir. The waiting and watching began…  
  
---  
  
Diamaou grinned vilely as he felt his sensations returning to him, his eyes still reeling from the bright flash of light that had flooded his vision and dulled his senses. His muscles tensed; he could move. A gust of wind hit his face; he could feel. The same gust of wind whistled through his ears; he could hear. And he could most certainly smell, as the hint of something charred and recently burnt wafted up his nostrils. "Likely my son's arm, if my plan went as expected…"  
  
He blinked, felt his eyelids close, but it did nothing to stop his momentary blindness: All he saw was complete blackness instead of the bright whiteness that made up his vision when his eyes were open. He gasped, suddenly lurching forward, as he had suddenly become disoriented… He couldn't see yet, but judging by the gasps of surprise that quickly reached his ears, he assumed that his son, and the other Nameksei-jin that had been assisting him to destroy Piccolo had been a part of it… Neru, his name was, or so he thought. He didn't really care now that he had his freedom. His first goal had been achieved… now, when his sight returned, he felt confident he would easily proceed onto his second, which was simple enough… destroying Son Goku's son and friends. After that would come a long, long period of training and meditation…  
  
He did not want to admit it, but if the thoughts he had stolen from Piccolo's mind were to be believed, this "Super Saiya-jin" might prove to be a far more formidable foe. And he knew that Son Goku would return to his home someday. His son had known it, and after the… Even now, the word burned at his heart and twisted the knife of betrayal into his gut, …Respect he knew his son now had for the warrior, that his son was correct. He would have liked nothing more than to destroy and subjugate the people of Chikyuu, but death had changed his perspective quite a bit… He knew he would not make the same mistakes again.  
  
Finally, after a moment, the mist began to clear, and sunlight filled his gaze for the first time in his new body. A quick glance around showed that his assessment of the situation was correct… there was no one to challenge him; the child was still on the ground, unconscious, the long-haired man and the three-eyed one that had been foolish enough to strive with him were nowhere in the vicinity.  
  
Diamaou glanced to where his son lie, to his left. Piccolo had apparently collapsed to the ground the instant he had regained his sight. He smiled cruelly, glaring at the disgrace. He knew what he had done to Piccolo was a fate far worse than death. He had robbed him of his stability, of his confidence… of everything. The only thing that his son knew now was fear and pain; because he was here now. He scowled at his son, glancing down at Gohan.  
  
"You gave up your power, and what remained of your sanity, for this." He beckoned towards Gohan, and sneered. "How noble. Consider yourself fortunate today, my son. You may be a hollow shell of what you once were, but you live only because the spirit of the god of this weak world dwells within you… I still need him alive. However." He beckoned again towards Gohan, towards where Tenshinhan and Yamucha and Kuririn all lay. "Your friends die now. And you will listen to their every scream."  
  
He had hardly finished that statement when a green fist smashed into his right cheek, driving him to the ground. He rolled to the right, absorbing most of the blow, and quickly rose to his feet, staring at his assailant in surprise. Of all the things he had anticipated experiencing in his new body, he hardly expected the taste of blood in his mouth to be among the first.  
  
  
  
---  
  
Kuririn could hardly believe his own eyes, even as he rose weakly to his feet, still scarcely able to do anything, or feel anything. He knew only what he had seen; one moment, he had heard Diamaou state to Piccolo that he and his friends were to die, and the next thing he knew, Neru had slugged Diamaou as hard as he could without even a word. The two were now staring at each other, Neru's gaze stern, Diamaou's visage turning from surprise to outrage.  
  
They continued to stare at each other, as if expecting one or the other to back down. By this point Kuririn had taken advantage of this to scramble closer; he didn't feel as if he had the strength to grab Gohan and get the hell out of there, but he was going to try as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Fortunately, Diamaou hadn't noticed him edging closer yet.  
  
"What is the meaning of this?" Diamaou shouted, and for a moment Kuririn stiffened, before realizing that the question had been directed at Neru. Neru regarded him coolly, not saying a word. Kuririn felt that would be the right move, though he still had almost no idea exactly what was about to transpire between the two, it would be good to keep the cunning Diamaou emotional, because then he might make a mistake. He chided himself for not thinking of that himself, and mentally reminded himself to attempt that next time… if he got another chance.  
  
"I'm waiting for an answer. How dare you strike me, to show such insolence, after I helped you acquire your freedom from my son!" His steely glare seemed to burn into Kuririn, even though he wasn't looking at it head-on, but Neru was still undeterred. The former Nameksei-jin "bodyguard" still had not spoken since his bizarre reappearance. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kuririn could not help wondering if being relatively quiet in battle was a pure Nameksei-jin trait or just a trait that Neru and Piccolo both shared.  
  
Diamaou fumed, obviously unused to people refusing to speak to him. "Perhaps I should speak to you in a different language, fool!" He screamed, raising his hands, but no ki blasts came, at least, for the moment. Neru stared at him, finally, it seemed, ready to speak.  
  
"I believe I'm a bit more proficient with the language you speak of than you. You were killed by a child, if what I learned was correct. I was nearly killed by the most powerful being in the universe." He allowed himself just a hint of a smirk, the way Piccolo would have.  
  
"I guess it's a Nameksei-jin trait after all," Kuririn thought. Neru continued speaking, as his smirk quickly vanished.  
  
"Just so I'm clear on your plans, what did you intend to do with this freedom we've gained?" Neru asked pointedly, and had anyone else been present during the time of his battle with Freezer, they would likely have felt an odd sense of nostalgia, as the warrior had said something similar before that battle.  
  
Diamaou frowned. "I intend to destroy this child and his friends, and then subjugate this planet. That's all you need to know, worm. I'm beginning to think that I'll add destroying you to my list of plans."  
  
"That's good, I was just checking… But now you have to understand that although I did some things I will likely regret for some time to gain my freedom…" Neru glanced at Piccolo, and from somewhere deep within himself, came up with a long-suffering sigh. "…I will not, under any circumstance, allow someone as evil as you to continue to exist, especially considering the fact that your first goal is to destroy some acquaintances of mine…" He looked down at Gohan, who remained unconscious, before continuing. "…And that I've already witnessed the mass genocide of my own race." His voice was bitter, but his expression remained neutral. "I will not allow anything like that to happen again, if it is under my power to do so… You thought you were using me, I can see it in your mind. But as much as you were using me, I was using you." He tensed and took on a defensive posture.  
  
"You don't know who you're deal-" Diamaou began, but Neru was already upon him before he could utter another word.  
  
Kuririn lost track of the number of blows the two exchanged, but he was pleased that he could at least feel their movements. It meant they might not be quite as powerful as he had thought… "Of course, when Freezer was weaker, you could see some of his movements too, old buddy…" Kuririn shuddered. At least they appeared to be evenly matched, and like any intelligent warrior, Neru was fighting harder now, pressing the advantage of surprise and keeping his opponent on the defensive. Diamaou still seemed to be reeling over the speed of Neru's assault when he suddenly went hurtling backwards as the recipient of a vicious kick that Neru landed, having broken through Diamaou's defenses.  
  
He flipped and oriented himself in mid-air, palms forward, ki blasts flying from his hands--  
  
Neru responded in kind with his own, but rather than merely as a defense, he charged forward, absorbing the brunt of the blasts and crashing into Diamaou, his shoulders singed but no permanent or serious harm having been done. Diamaou hit the ground hard, grunting upon impact, a little slower to get up.  
  
But Neru was not about to give him that much time to orient himself, as the Nameksei-jin lunged forward yet again, hurtling straight at Diamaou. Diamaou adjusted, grinning at his opponent's apparent mistake of attempting a head-on assault.  
  
But his double handed strike met empty air, as Neru had sidestepped right before impact, sliding around Diamaou and taking advantage of his momentarily off balance position to knock him to the ground with a simple yet effective sweep of the leg. And Neru was not about to let his opponent get up with ease again.  
  
As Diamaou attempted to rise, Neru grabbed his left arm, swung him around twice, and released him, sending him hurtling into the cliff wall; ironically, the same cliff that Kuririn had crashed through several minutes ago. The difference was, Kuririn had merely collided with it and fallen to the ground. Diamaou went straight through, bouncing off the ground several times before finally skidding to a stop.  
  
Had it been anyone else, Kuririn might almost have felt sympathy for the pain Diamaou would have been feeling. But this was battle, and Kuririn knew that punishment was usually part of it. To his surprise, Neru glanced at him as he walked forward, past Kuririn's hiding spot, to where Diamaou was lying.  
  
"Get your friends and make sure they're out of the way, earthling. I'm going to finish this." Neru's tone was sharp and serious.  
  
Kuririn couldn't recall ever hearing it as anything but. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped and nodded. Explanations could wait until afterwards, he knew. And now that he had the opportunity to check on his friends, he wasn't going to squander it. He ran for Gohan and Piccolo. At least no one was dead yet. In the utter chaos and confusion of what had transpired in the past minutes, that was something to be thankful for.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou stirred, angered beyond belief. "How can this be happening? I have all of my son's power!" Some distance away, Neru approached, slowly and meticulously. Diamaou growled, the sound low in his throat, his senses on fire, his chest aching. Only moments ago had he felt triumphant, powerful. Now he merely felt as if he were about to die again, and the fact of it was driving him over the edge. "I cannot accept this! I will not accept it!" He couldn't comprehend it, Neru was destroying him, but at the same time his opponent was so calm, so collected, as if he had never exuded emotion in his life… and yet… and yet…  
  
At that terrible moment, when defeat seemed inevitable, the darkness clouding Diamaou's vision of Piccolo's power was lifted. He was now in his own body, and was trying to summon up Piccolo's power the way he had called up his own power so many ages ago; through anger and emotion. That was not his son's secret, and as he reminded himself, the power he was wielding was not merely his own; the secrets and the physical form he had stolen from his son. "I must fight as I fought when I only had control of his mind and his body… before we were separated for good…" Slowly, a smile spread over his face. Victory was once again within his grasp.  
  
Neru approached, unaware that Diamaou had determined this…  
  
---  
  
"Something's suspicious." Neru thought, nearing ever closer to Diamaou. His opponent was still lying facedown, stirring but otherwise unmoving. He glanced down at him, regarding him, his hands up, as if expecting him to rise to his feet at any moment. Out of habit, he sensed Diamaou's ki… and in that moment, he had two terrible revelations. The first was that Diamaou was oddly calm… and the second was a remnant of his last battle against Freezer. In that battle, he had pretended to be totally spent, before attempting to surprise his opponent and unleashing the biggest ki blast he had eve-  
  
As if in a cruel irony, Diamaou spun around, not even bothering to stand up, and as a bright flash of ki reached Neru's eyes, he knew he would not be able to dodge in time. He did the only thing he could, raising his arms and crossing them, in a vain effort to protect his chest and face…  
  
The savage energy hit him dead center, at point blank range. Had his arms not been there, it would have blown a hole completely through him. As it was, it threw him up into the air, and as he crashed to the ground, howling in pain, he wondered why his chest felt as if it had been incinerated, while he had no feeling in his arms at all. The answer was maddeningly simple; his arms were no longer there, or anywhere. Diamaou loomed over him, grinning triumphantly. He tried to get up, tried to focus on regenerating his severed limbs, but the damage was too extensive; he would not be able to regenerate for quite some time, if he even survived.  
  
"It was a good effort, but you simply cannot match my power, Neru. It's a shame you squandered your freedom, but at least you'll be reunited with your beloved Saichoro."  
  
Neru was about to scream at him, ask him how he knew that, do anything to delay the inevitable…  
  
---  
  
"Leave him alone!" Kuririn's shout rang from the distance and both Neru and Diamaou turned to see the monk standing over Gohan and Piccolo, one hand firmly in the air, with a disk of crackling energy hovering above it. His expression was resolute, and determined.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou snickered, hardly able to believe his eyes. Kuririn hoped that Diamaou's own arrogance would permit this only chance to work. He threw, his disc spinning towards Diamaou, even as the Nameksei-jin smirked, already drawing his arm back to slap the disc away…  
  
He howled with surprise as the disc passed through his hand without a word and went on, slicing through the left side of his chest-- and continuing out through his back. Blood flowed and spilled, and in that moment, once again the tide of the battle had turned.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou fell to his knees, his intact arm clutching at his wound, mouth agape, staring at Kuririn. Kuririn glared at him, and began to prepare another attack, but Diamaou would have nothing of it; another attack and he would be dead.  
  
"I'll be back, and when I am, you and your friends will suffer before you die! You won't catch me with that again!" He quickly leapt into the air; though weakened, he could still move, and he knew his only option was to flee, at this point. "I severely underestimated them… But I will not make that mistake next time." Diamaou took a sidelong glance at Kuririn and Neru one last time, and flew off into the distance.  
  
Kuririn felt inclined to follow him, but then looked around; Gohan remained unconscious, Tenshinhan and Yamucha were unconscious and still badly hurt, Neru was sitting up, but utterly spent, not even bothering to look at Kuririn. As for Piccolo… Piccolo was cowering at his feet, babbling nonsensically, and acting as if he were in intense pain. He looked for all the world like a person that had not merely lost their mind, but had it destroyed. The condition of the Nameksei-jin warrior destroyed whatever hint of resolve Kuririn had to attempt to finish off Diamaou. They needed senzu, rest, and answers, not more battle at this point. He stared in the direction Diamaou had departed one last time, then knelt down to revive Gohan.  
  
"I guess I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do…" Kuririn mused.  
  
---  
  
The Prototypical Post-chapter commentary/rant/whatever from the author:  
  
Well folks, I guess I'm back, or at least, making my last gasp or something. I cannot ask for forgiveness for consequently disappearing for eight (!) months from the fanfiction scene, nor will I be so naïve as to act as if everything will be the way it was before. I'm sure I've burned more than a few bridges with that act, and though everyone should be entitled to an explanation, the only one I can offer at this time is that I've been busy, I've changed, and if you want a longer version, e-mail me, and though I cannot guarantee a personal reply, I will send something of an explanation. Though personally, though people have a right to know, my personal life is just that, personal, so I'm afraid I won't go into extensive detail.  
  
At this point, I cannot guarantee that I'm going to continue writing fanfiction or anything of the sort. All I can say is that someday, Tainted Soul will get completed, so anyone who reads it isn't tearing their hair out and wants to shoot, maim, or club the author over the head with a really large wooden mallet. At this point, I think it's reasonable to assume I'll have another chapter in two weeks, no later than a month. (Geez, we all know what happened the last time I said that -_-;;;; )  
  
And as always, feedback is always welcome, even if at this point it consists of telling me to go jump off a cliff. =P  
  
-Cremrock 


	7. Tainted Soul Chapter 7

Tainted Soul  
Chapter 7  
  
By Cremrock  
  
A body slept. It was perhaps devoid of spirit, of conscience, possibly a soul as well, though its caretaker didn't dare think of it. Regardless of whether there was still soul there or not, this body slept, and as this body was its caretaker's most sacred charge, his duty, and as it had alwaysbeen his life's work, he cared for it.  
  
"Oh Kami-sama... just where do you find yourself? Please come back to us..." Mr. Popo thought, his dark features tinged with concern. He had occasionally peeped over the edge of the Lookout, but all he had seen was battle, and despite his interest in the outcome, he could be of no help there. It seemed, as though he could be of no help anywhere. He had been furiously thinking of a way to assist, some form of knowledge, anything to counter the vile intrusion that Diamaou had performed, but had come to the determination that such knowledge either did not exist, or that he did not have it.  
  
And so, he had tended to Kami as best he could. The man's expression hadn't changed in the past few hours, but then, Popo reflected, since his mind was so clearly out of his body, there wasn't a whole lot around to inspire a change in his pain-filled, serious expression.  
  
Popo sighed. He knelt down, picked up a nearby flask of water, and lifted Kami's head, hoping to at least pour a few mouthfuls of water down his throat, and in doing so, perhaps make Kami's body a little more comfortable.  
  
Popo finished, and was turning away to put the flask of water on a nearby shelf. As he turned he could have sworn that he had seen Kami's mouth twitch upwards in the slightest hint of a smile. Popo instantly swung around, relief grafted onto his face, but Kami had adopted the same, stern, painful expression as before.  
  
Popo's eyes dropped in despair, and he looked away. "You didn't see him smile... you only want to see him smile, right?"  
  
He continued to tend to Kami; if Son Gohan and his friends needed him for something, they would know where to look.  
  
---  
  
Chipmunks tittered and clambered back into their burrows, birds took flight, and even the plants themselves seemed to shrink away as a massive, battle-torn figure dashed through the wilderness. He ran as fast as he could, not because of fear, but because it was necessary to survival.  
  
Diamaou couldn't remember the last time he had been set running like this. Oh, he had run before, yes. One did not live as long as he had, or rather, as he once had, by fighting while at a considerable disadvantage. He could have taken flight, but he knew from sifting through Piccolo's memories; the memories he had torn from his son's mind, despite the fact that his son was no longer... present; that his foes would be able to follow him, sense his ki, if he flew. He could not allow his next move to be determined. Not yet, at least. He had only afforded as brief a bit of ki as he needed, regenerating his arm upon reaching cover of wilderness, before running again.  
  
"Not that they would follow, as bloody and battered as I left them." Diamaou thought. He was angry, angrier than he had been in a long while, but he took some solace in that thought.  
  
Considerable disadvantage or not, he could not dispute that his plan had become disrupted. He had intended to destroy them all there, once he had separated with Piccolo, and thereby destroying Kami's body as well. However, Neru's appearance had disrupted his plan. The distraction the Nameksei-jin had caused; and his own arrogance, Diamaou ruefully admitted, had resulted in the disruption.  
  
It was no matter. He was the king of demons, and he would merely resort to another plan. Once he was safely away; where he could lick his wounds, rest, and...  
  
An errant tree root disrupted his thoughts as he tripped the momentum of his speed carried him forward, tumbling and rolling in a heap. He finally came to a stop, his head spinning, his back aching, and a few more tiny cuts and scratches appearing on his already battered body.  
  
He turned, snarling, and incinerated the root; and it's corresponding tree; with a ki blast, without thinking. He stared at the charred remains, realizing what he had done, and furrowed his brow, his antennae drooping with the gesture.  
  
"Idiot. Next time, be more careful."  
  
Diamaou blinked, his eyes widening in surprise at this thought; not because he had called himself an idiot; far from that, but because he could have sworn that the thought was different; that the thought was not his own.  
  
"Who said that?" Diamaou thought, quite illogically, but whether the thought had been of his own volition, or had been the thought of someone else, there was no way to tell. The voice, imaginary or not, was silent.  
  
"I must be imagining things..." Diamaou thought. Cursing, he stood up and continued his running. He knew where he was going, as a wry, evil, anticipating smile spread over his visage. He changed direction and began running north, over hills and a more elevated slope.  
  
There was nothing of interest in that direction, save a house in the mountains; a house that just happened to belong to a woman, if Piccolo's memories were to be trusted. Diamaou had no time to deal with humans, but he would make an exception with this one, for nothing more than the fact that this one just happened to be Son Goku's wife.  
  
---  
  
Chi-chi loomed over the table in the middle of the family kitchen, scrutinizing it for the tiniest flaw, be it chip, crack, scratch, or microscopic speck of dirt. Had the table been alive, it would likely have been intimidated by the woman's glare; a glare so sharp that it was laser- like in its intensity... but it was just a wooden table. And so, its only response to the glare possessed by this woman looming over it, was simple, and dictated by science and nature. The table displayed this woman's reflection on its newly polished surface.  
  
A smile warmed over her stern glare, and she halted her scrutiny of the table and looked up. Dusting the entire home from top to bottom was not a task she relished, but she knew it wouldn't do to have her husband returning home to a dusty house. It didn't once cross her mind that the Saiya-jin wouldn't care, but the dusting served another purpose.  
  
It took her mind off of him. She turned around and opened a window, gazing at the beautiful mountain landscape, hoping to take her mind off of her husband. What she saw made her think of Son Gohan instead, as the Haiyaa Dragon toddled around outside. The dragon had become quite rambunctious and mischievous once Son Gohan had left, and after Chi-chi had inspected the dragon's wound to ensure it was healing nicely, she had had no choice but to send the dragon outside. Even after being turned away, it had stayed around the house; the dragon apparently knew that Son Gohan would be returning for it at some point, and the dragon had discovered plenty of things to eat  
  
Chi-Chi sighed again and furrowed her brow as a thought occurred to her...  
  
"Can we keep him as a pet mom?"  
  
She shook her head at the thought. Gohan was more intelligent than that, but she had to admit that that question would be a possibility when her child returned home. Speaking of which, where had Gohan been? She hadn't thought that he would be out for this long without checking in... but then, nothing that her son did surprised her anymore. She'd never admit it to his face, but she knew that he usually had a good reason for being away.  
  
A sudden screech jolted her from her thoughts, as she looked up and saw the dragon staring at her. She eyed it quizzically, not understanding the creature's intent.  
  
"I'm certainly not going to play with you! Unlike you, I was doing some work today!" She shouted at the creature, which continued to gaze at her. It screeched again, and Chi-Chi continued to admonish it, glaring directly into those soft, liquid eyes. It was only then that she noticed the angle of the creature's head; tilted slightly sideways, and then, it hit her.  
  
The creature wasn't looking straight at her; the creature was looking behind her. In the past few minutes, while she had been lost in her thoughts, her neatly polished table had acquired another reflection. She moved to turn around, but before she could even begin, she felt something slam into her left shoulder; something razor sharp and impossibly fast. She shrieked in pain, but Chi-Chi was a strong woman; and the pain, terrible as it was, did not render her into submission, nor did it defeat her. She spun around, her good arm raised and swinging through the air, a brutal backhand that would have surely crushed the skull of any normal man, any would-be burglar. But instead of meeting with her adversaries' temple, her arm met only with the vise-like grip of a green hand now covered in blood. As surely as that, she was defeated. She didn't even see the blow, much less feel it, as the hand released her arm and slammed into her forehead with impossible force, knocking her out cold.  
  
It was a good thing that she was no longer in the realm of conscious thought, as she would have been disappointed indeed to see that her table no longer held the luster it had held before.  
  
Human blood could do that to a table.  
  
---  
  
The Haiyaa dragon bellowed in protest, squealed in warning, in surprise, and in fear, but even then, it had been too late. The little creature would have liked to have screamed before, but it's instincts, and of course, that bone-chilling curtain of fear; held the creature back. Now it was too late.  
  
It had not seen what had happened to the woman as she had slumped out of view. All it saw were those cold eyes and their grim tidings. Tidings which bore the promise of death. Slowly, as if to savor the moment, the green-skinned being raised it's hand, a tiny grin spreading over it's face.  
  
The dragon turned and ran, the painful memory of it's earlier wounds spurring it onward, adrenaline snapping the pall of fear that had held it. There was no way that it would make it in time...  
  
---  
  
Diamaou hesitated as the creature scurried off into some bushes, it's purple tail and backside waggling furiously. He blinked, wondering why his concentration had lapsed, why he had not simply incinerated the creature. He briefly considered chasing after it, before letting it go. He didn't want to admit that he had hesitated, so he quelled that notion with the realization that he could not afford to blast the dragon and risk detection.  
  
"I have everything I need right here...The dragon can lure the boy here, if need be..."  
  
His expression returned to that vilest of grins, darker than the darkest shadow. His plan was coming to fruition, and this woman was the latest piece of the puzzle.  
  
---  
  
Somewhere, entrapped deep within the furthest regions of his conscious, a vision flashed. Was it his own, or someone else's? Was he even alive? He didn't know. Come to think of it, he didn't even know; truly, who he was. He could feel, yet he somehow knew he was not conscious. Perhaps that was a good thing; for reasons as yet unknown to him, his body was wracked with pain, with injury. Pain so intense that it transcended into the unconsciousness.  
  
And yet, despite the fact that he was unconscious, he was aware. He could see, but only through a haze, as if someone had thrown a darkened shawl across his vision. A woman came into his view; or rather, the back of a woman. She too, was without hue, yet the unconscious being sensed that she was somehow... familiar, as if he had known her before. More than familiar, the being felt that she was important to him. He could only watch, sense, as this woman turned around with a start, before something; blurred and impossibly fast; slammed into her forehead. The woman crumpled to the floor, and despite his familiarity, the being felt no sympathy, no remorse. Instead, he felt only fear. Not fear for the woman's well being; he had not yet pieced together why this woman was familiar to him, so why be concerned?  
  
No, the fear he felt sent a deep revulsion through his entire being, as the reflection of the woman's attacker came into view in the window. Colors were impossible to distinguish, but he recognized that evil smile, that hairless brow, and those finely pointed ears. He wanted to scream, wanted to move, to turn this reflection away, but he could not. Fortunately, the reflection soon faded away, as he noted that the women was being lifted up in arms that were not his, yet the angle of the view suggested that they were. They were not his arms, it was not his reflection in the window, but regardless it pierced him to his very core. He did not want to meet the owner of that reflection.  
  
And yet he knew that something important was being revealed to his very eyes, as his vision shifted again; shifted to an entrance; to a cave. He thought he knew where the cave was, but words did not come to him.  
  
He would have liked to see what was inside the cave, to see where, or what this woman was being taken to, when the vision faded.  
  
He was awakening; and awakening was terrible. He did not want to face the conscious world, not yet, not ever... but pain told him he had no choice; like it or not, something was waking him up. And as he awakened, he became more sensitive to pain again.  
  
He thought he heard someone calling out as the last vestiges of his sensibility began to return...  
  
"Piccolo-san? Please wake up!"  
  
Piccolo? Was that his name? He wished to stay unconscious, to learn more... It was only while unconscious that the bonds holding him had any hope of weakening...  
  
But then he awoke. To a world where pain and fear banished him.  
  
---  
  
Few things can diminish rational thought more than pain; be it mental or physical. Such did Son Gohan discover when Piccolo jolted from the gurney with a start, howling and babbling non-sensibly.  
  
Neru felt almost sorry for the child as he grasped Piccolo's arm, trying to calm the other Nameksei-jin down. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be here, even as Son Gohan stammered, "Piccolo-san, you're safe! It's all right!"  
  
"Here" Was a large building marked "Capsule Corporation", if the bald- headed man he knew as Kuririn was to be trusted. The immediate surroundings consisted of a nondescript, rectangular room with white walls, arguably the only pure and unstained thing in the room: All the living beings inside the room were stained with something, or so Neru thought.  
  
Neru knew he was stained with guilt, though he didn't want to admit it; being here was a portion of that guilt, contributed to it. But he had had nowhere else to go at the time, on a planet with a people mostly foreign to him. The child Gohan, was stained physically, his face lined with tears as he continued trying to reason with his mentor, and Piccolo... Neru didn't know what Piccolo was stained with, only in that he couldn't decide on a particular thing. Pain, fear regret, sadness, sorrow, or insanity, Piccolo seemed to be displaying all of those emotions, and more right now.  
  
Of Piccolo, Neru only knew that things had not been according to plan; not according to his plan at all. He wondered if admitting to his plan would resolve the guilt he felt, or intensify it, but now was most decidedly not the time for a question and answer session.  
  
There was a single entrance, a steel door that was currently closed, but Neru guessed that within moments, someone would come barging through it. He knew that Earthling hearing was not as sensitive as his, but by the pure decibels of sound that were assaulting his sensitive hearing, even a dead man would be able to hear Piccolo, screaming and ranting.  
  
His suspicions were answered a minute later when Kuririn and Bulma burst into the room, followed by a small, spherical robot with a red cross emblazoned on its side. The robot wasted no time, as a tiny slot opened and a metal arm shot out, holding a syringe. Unfortunately, by now, Piccolo had started thrashing in his throes of pain, and as Kuririn dashed forward to help Gohan and Neru hold the burly Nameksei-jin warrior down, Piccolo's flailing leg smashed the syringe into tiny pieces.  
  
The spherical robot, undaunted, soon procured another syringe, this time connecting with the Nameksei-jin's leg, depressing the plunger and injecting Piccolo with a powerful sedative. Unfortunately, the sedative had no effect, but the slight pain of the needle only increased the fear, the pain in Piccolo's eyes, as an involuntary shudder ran through his body.  
  
The woman, Bulma, looked at the three men, and then ran off again, presumably to find more help, or something. Whatever she was going for, Neru did not know. Gohan and Kuririn continued to try to reason with Piccolo, and the robot hovered silently in the air, it's Artificial Intelligence processing wildly in an effort to figure out why the sedative had not worked. It had never considered the fact that its patient might not be human; it was not programmed to do so.  
  
"Piccolo-san, please..." Gohan reasoned, but Piccolo gave no indication of having heard, uncomprehending in his panic. Kuririn looked at Neru helplessly. Not for the first time, Neru felt a pang of guilt. The guilt only increased as he did the only thing he could think of; rearing back and slapping Piccolo hard across the face.  
  
Immediately after that slap, Piccolo stopped screaming, staring at Neru with the same pain-filled gaze he had displayed before, but Neru felt he saw something else in those eyes... recognition?  
  
Piccolo pushed at Neru and began thrashing again while babbling nonsensically, but with one clear phrase, almost a gasp. Had they not been the only intelligible words in his rapid stream of gibberish, Gohan and Kuririn wouldn't have been able to make it out.  
  
The intent of Piccolo's two intelligble words was clear though, as he screamed, "STAY AWAY!" At the top of his lungs, before thrashing even more wildly. Gohan stared pleadingly at Neru, and the older Nameksei-jin took the hint, turning away and exiting the room.  
  
It was a good thing too, as despite his stern expression during much of the previous ordeal, Neru had felt a tear welling up in his eye. When he was out of the room, he stared at the ground, his antennae drooping with the rest of his once firm visage. Tears were unbecoming of a warrior such as he, but as a single drop of moisture rolled down his cheekbone, he knew that it was not merely a tear of sorrow, but a tear of frustration as well.  
  
Things were not supposed to be this way.  
  
He still did not know much about the earthlings, but he had gleaned some insight from looking into Piccolo's thoughts. Neru knew that, with the situation as it was, he was going to have to explain to Son Gohan and the others what he had done.  
  
He only prayed that he would be able to undo his mistake, before it was too late, as he clenched his fists in frustration.  
  
Diamaou was his mistake. No matter the cost, he knew that one way or the other, Diamaou had to die.  
  
And yet, in that affirmation of the death that Neru swore he would have a hand in dealing, another disturbing notion crossed his mind.  
  
Wasn't he supposed to be dead? In fusing with Piccolo, he had cheated death in a traditional sense, but had traded one form of death for another. At the time he had likened it to giving his life for a noble cause, but now...  
  
He unclenched his fists, stared at his palms, solid, alive... and free. He wished he was outside, wished he could gaze at the calm tranquillity of the open sky, foreign it may have been.  
  
He recalled Piccolo's tortured screams, Diamaou's vile laugh, and shuddered. He was free, yes.  
  
But was it worth the cost? He had wanted to defuse from Piccolo with every fiber of his being, even if it meant his death, but that had previously been impossible. He knew in his heart that Piccolo was not at fault. Neru had made the decision to fuse with the great warrior, with full knowledge of the price he had to pay. And yet, when he had been offered life through twisted, evil means, he had taken it and had unleashed a great evil upon an innocent planet and people. All because he had wanted to live again. With his noble heart, this was one time the ends did not justify the means.  
  
He had overestimated his fighting skills, had not considered that Diamaou might be stronger than he had let on, and perhaps that Neru's own body, so finely tuned for combat, would be weaker than anticipated..  
  
He clenched and unclenched his hand again, this time staring at the lines on his palms, the slender fingers, and the Nameksei-jin nails. He certainly felt stronger than he ever had, but he knew he wasn't as strong as he had estimated, perhaps by a wide margin. Had Diamaou taken more of Piccolo's fighting acumen than he had thought? The demon had already surprised Neru by having strong fighting skills of his own...  
  
A sharp yelp that Neru recognized as Piccolo's came from down the hall, and another thought came to Neru. A third possibility for the absence of power that he had not yet considered.  
  
He would have to think on this, think about Piccolo. Think about the power.  
  
All the while, he wondered what the Saichoro would have thought of him.  
  
"Am I really that different from Diamaou?" Neru mused...  
  
He closed his eyelids in reflection for a moment, but he was wearier than he had thought, as if his guilt was somehow weighing on him, and a moment later, he was fast asleep.  
  
Even in the land of the dreamers, he doubted he would find peace.  
  
---  
  
As soon as Neru had left the room, Piccolo had calmed noticeably. Now, his antennae were waving back and forth rapidly, synchronous with the rapid movements of his head, as he kept staring wide-eyed at Bulma, Kuririn, and Gohan, as if expecting them to do something to him.  
  
Or perhaps, Kuririn mused, turn into something. He made a note to ask Neru about what was going on, but right now, he had another problem to solve. Tenshinhan and Yamucha were in another, separate room of the capsule corporation, very much alive, but very much out of the fight. Kuririn hadn't noticed it during the battle, but the pouch of Senzu he had been carrying had been torn open, and the Senzu lost to the wild.  
  
As a result, their little group had been reduced to 4... And that was if he counted Piccolo and Neru as part of the group. He glanced at Bulma, and knew that if his thoughts were spoken aloud, she would demand to be considered part of the group. Kuririn would have been happy to accommodate her, but the mantle of leadership was on his shoulders, and he had to consider exactly who and what they had to oppose Diamaou on the field of battle. Bulma was a trusted friend, and an asset. But if she was all that would be left to oppose Diamaou, it was time to kiss the world goodbye, unless she happened to contact Son Goku or, dare he think it, Vegeta.  
  
Kuririn began to wonder if he should have left his friends behind and gone after Diamaou in hopes of finishing the demon before he recovered. Now it was up to him to come up with a plan.  
  
"And not for the first time, either..."  
  
He already felt trepidation about the decisions he would have to make; on Nameksei he had had the luxury of knowing that Son Goku was coming, and in that luxury, know that he only had to keep everything afloat, so to speak, until then. Now though, he wasn't quite sure what to expect; he didn't just have to keep everyone alive, he had to figure out how to stop Diamaou in the process.  
  
"Of course, after Freezer and Vegeta, how difficult can this be?" Kuririn couldn't help wondering if his thoughts were nothing more then famous last words.  
  
He motioned to Bulma and Gohan; Piccolo's eyes also followed the motion of his hand, but they recoiled, as if Piccolo expected to be struck. Thankfully, the Nameksei-jin remained quiet. Kuririn doubted that he would have been able to tear Gohan away from his side if anything else were the case.  
  
"C'mon guys... Piccolo needs to rest for a bit, and we need to figure out what we're going to do about Diamaou. Let's go find Neru and try and figure out what's going on, okay?"  
  
Bulma began to move towards the door, but...  
  
Gohan glanced at Kuririn, pleading for a few more minutes. It was time that Kuririn knew they might not have. Fortunately, Kuririn had a card to play, as he stared into the child's eyes, inhaling deeply, and then staring at Piccolo and letting it out. If he pulled this off, he wouldn't have to be a complete jerk.  
  
"Gohan, Piccolo's safer now than he was before... But the only way we're going to be able to help him is to find some answers, and if we know one thing, we know that Diamaou's not just our enemy; he might also be the person who holds those answers, okay?"  
  
Gohan stared at Piccolo, clearly torn. He clutched Piccolo's right hand, and amazingly, the Nameksei-jin didn't seem to flinch, or at least, he didn't respond in a negative manner. Kuririn hadn't received an answer yet, but Gohan's body language was telling him that he clearly wanted to stay with Piccolo longer.  
  
Fortunately, Kuririn had one more card to play.  
  
"Gohan, let's go. Piccolo wouldn't want you standing here over him; he'd want you to fight."  
  
Gohan looked from Kuririn, to Piccolo, his face masked in concern, but Kuririn could tell that the child was pondering his words. Kuririn turned and walked outside of the room without a sound, and Gohan knew that the former monk was disappointed.  
  
Gohan attempted to rationalize what he wanted to do, because he knew that, "Piccolo would do the same for me..." But then, was he respecting his master's wishes and ideals by remaining with Piccolo? Gohan stared at Piccolo and his clothing, taking a long look up and down. Despite the split, the Nameksei-jin had retained his purple gi and his flowing white cape; though the turban had been lost somewhere in the shuffle of Piccolo's flailing limbs and screams.  
  
Absently, he stared down at his own clothing, so different, but lovingly crafted at an earlier time. Gohan remembered when he had made the clothing himself; each stitch, each outlandish strip of clothing. At the time, Gohan had felt that by wearing the same clothes as the Nameksei-jin, he would become more like him. The reflection made him think harder, as he glanced at Piccolo again, and he found himself asking the question, "What would Piccolo really do?"  
  
Gohan forced himself to lock his gaze on the sight he least wanted to see: Piccolo's eyes, which were widely staring at him. Were the eyes judging him, somewhere beneath the pall of fear? Was Piccolo even Piccolo anymore, or just a shell?  
  
There was only one way to find out, only one way to help.  
  
Quietly, silently, and without a single tear, Son Gohan made his decision. Piccolo would have wanted it that way. He started towards the door, and then turned to glance at Piccolo again. Piccolo might not have wanted him to look back, but as he stared at his sensei one last time, his despair, his sadness, and his concern at the Namek's present condition were banished for the moment, replaced by determination.  
  
"I'll make you better, Piccolo-san..." He whispered, and with that he made his vow. It was, perhaps, a gruesome vow, far to macabre for a child; but then again, maybe it was the vow of a boy that was mature beyond his years; a boy that had taken his first step towards emulating his master. One way or the other, he would find answers. And one way or the other, Diamaou, the monster that had taken the form of his master and had ripped Piccolo asunder, would die.  
  
---  
  
Kuririn wasn't surprised to see Gohan stepping out of the room, but Gohan was certainly surprised to see Kuririn leaning against the wall, his stern expression gone, and a faint smile on his face.  
  
Despite the seriousness of the vow Gohan had just made, he was still a child in many ways, and though he wondered if he had disappointed Kuririn, the "I knew you'd come" look in older man's eyes told Gohan all that he needed to know. For the first time in the past few hours Gohan allowed himself a smile, and the two warriors nodded to each other before racing down the hallway.  
  
--- As Neru looked around, he knew immediately that he was dreaming. What else could this be...? This blackened void? He was surrounded by darkness, and floating on air, though he had no sensation that he was expelling or floating on ki.  
  
He should have been afraid, but instead he felt oddly peaceful. Was this death? Or rather, what death felt like? He felt a faint breeze across his brow, as his antennae wafted slightly in the movement of the air, though there were obviously no trees; or at least, none that he could see. A moment after that he was engulfed in a blast of light, so bright that he reflexively shut his eyes. They snapped open a second later, and what he saw made him gasp in surprise and nearly lose his balance.  
  
A bright green sky, three suns, and many strange, thin trees were around him. To any other race, this world would have appeared alien, but to Neru, these surroundings were the most beautiful thing he had seen in all his years. He was on Nameksei. He was home.  
  
Neru collapsed into the tall grass, feeling it waft slightly in a cool breeze, as it tickled the portions of him that were unclothed. He knew it was a dream, and he didn't care. That was when he felt, or rather didn't feel, the grass tickling his skin. He craned his neck around for a glance at the ground, and realized that he was slowly floating, rising up from the ground. He sat up, floating on air, and wondered what the hell was happening, moments before he was pulled hard by some invisible force, as he soared across the landscape. Gritting his teeth, he managed to right himself in a position more ideal for flying, although he knew that he wasn't going to be able to change his direction.  
  
He was at the mercy of whatever force had him, unable to break free. He continued to soar around the landscape, and Neru knew that he had gone halfway around the planet when, as abruptly as he had started, he stopped.  
  
Slowly, he floated down to the ground; whatever force had held him and drawn him here had gone. He gazed around, trying to discern his surroundings. Underneath his feet was a large cliff overlooking a valley. He was about to leap down the cliff when he noticed two figures in the valley, and his keen hearing picked up voices, so faint and distant that he couldn't yet make out who the voices belonged to; or the words themselves. Curious, he scrambled down the cliff and moved in for a closer look.  
  
Neru wasn't surprised to know that he recognized the first figure. This was, after all, a dream, and all dreams had the potential to turn into nightmares. The first figure he recognized as nightmare incarnate. The first figure had a cocky, confidence filled smile, two horns, three toed feet, a long tail, and a diminutive stature that belied the true power he possessed. The first figure was Freezer.  
  
But the second figure was the exact opposite; tall, stern, disciplined, and seemingly confident as well. Neru knew that the confidence this figure possessed was a façade; a trick, because the second figure that he viewed... was himself. He and Freezer were exchanging words that Neru remembered well; the words they had exchanged during his brave, albeit suicidal, effort to buy Dende and the Earthlings time to summon Porunga with the Nameksei-jin Dragonballs.  
  
His sacrifice, and at the time he had thought it would be the only one he would be making, merely because that sacrifice would entail his death. As he, or the representation of himself in this dream sprung into battle, Neru was forced to admire the sheer perfection of his movements. At the time he had been less than satisfied with the results, as Freezer had stood, accepting his blows with that same damnable smile, but now that he was removed from the fight, he knew that he had fought as hard as he possibly could; his blows would have affected almost anyone else.  
  
Just the same, he couldn't help but involuntarily flinch as he watched Freezer tear off his arm. At the time, there had been nothing he could do about it except try to keep breathing, ignore Freezer's bantering, and regenerate his arm, continue to buy himself time. He had known at that point that he didn't stand a chance. He had made his peace, he had his duty, his purpose, and nothing would make him deviate from it.  
  
Of course, the anger and rage he felt helped too, as he watched himself release all the energy he had in a massive strike. He had been hoping to catch the tyrant off guard, but he only winced as Freezer caught him off guard, appearing right in front of him and casually driving his fist back into Neru's face; shattering the bones surrounding his left eye; or worse. At the time, he hadn't really been able to tell; all he knew was that it hurt more than anything he had ever encountered (though the arm being torn off was a close second), and that he was completely blind in his left eye.  
  
Freezer stood over him, intent on dealing a final blow while still wearing that smirk, and that, Neru remembered, was when he had made his first mistake. Given that he was still sworn to protect the Saichoro it had seemed like a good idea at the time... But that was when he told Freezer that his plans were ruined, and that the wishes of the earthlings were well on their way to being made.  
  
The look on the alien's face was worth the risk, and despite his new role of bystander, he chuckled to himself as the Neru in his dream told Freezer the news. A moment later, the alien blasted off, leaving him to die a slow death.  
  
Neru recalled thinking about his sacrifice, but he also remembered that he primarily made it a challenge to his spirit; he wanted to see just how long he could stay alive. If he got lucky, perhaps help would arrive and he would pull through, but if not; he was comfortable with his sacrifice.  
  
That had been when he had sensed the massive ki's on the other side of the planet, including the one most recognizable to him; Freezer's. He hadn't cared then how powerless he had been only minutes before, he had only wanted to help, to provide assistance. He had wondered how Dende was doing, and how the Saichoro was doing... And that was when he came.  
  
Piccolo stood over his body, regarding him with a steely glare, and Neru remembered how impressed he had been by the sheer power he could sense in Piccolo. He had been considered the most powerful Nameksei-jin on the planet in terms of fighting ability, and this one completely blew him away, if his senses were to be trusted. The prideful part of him hoped that he was delusional, because the gulf in power was so wide.  
  
This, Neru knew, was when he had made his sacrifice. He hadn't know what fusing with another Nameksei-jin would be like, would feel like, but he knew from the legends, from the stories of elders that had fused with other Nameksei-jin, that it would greatly enhance their power. All Neru didn't know was what would come after the fusion; would he cease to exist? Would he reside in an afterlife like any other being? Would he still be conscious, still be aware, would he have any control?  
  
With time, the answers had come to him. Piccolo had seemed as uncomfortable with the arrangement as he was, but the two had tolerated each other... For Piccolo it was a boost to his power, but for Neru, it had eventually become his own personal hell.  
  
Piccolo had been an amusing fellow to converse with; and though he had been able to do that with his new counterpart, the fusion had afforded him precious little aside from that. He could think, but not speak; could not express himself to anyone except Piccolo, and even that was difficult. He could feel if he allowed himself to, but it was only what Piccolo was feeling, be it pain, a cool breeze, or the delicate petals of a flower. (He hadn't really ever had the opportunity to do that again. Piccolo preferred to admire nature instead of fondle it.) He could see, but once again, it was only what Piccolo was seeing; he could not move.  
  
At first, it had not been so bad. He could always retreat somewhere in Piccolo's consciousness, opting to surround himself with darkness instead of sensing what Piccolo was sensing. The Nameksei-jin had so many intriguing memories that Neru had never thought possible; knowledge about the wilderness on planet Earth, memories of his childhood, and the like. In a way, it was like reading a biography, but a biography that was far more interactive than any other.  
  
But that adventure wore off quickly, and gradually he became more and more depressed. It had really begun when his people had left the Earth and gone to their new home. He often tortured himself with the thoughts; he wanted to be with his people, to help them with the challenge of living on a new planet, to protect them from whatever dangers lie there.  
  
He didn't mind helping Piccolo, and he would have gladly assisted these Earthlings in battle if they needed him, but his sense of duty, his sense of loyalty, and the honor he had intended to keep when he had made his sacrifice began to wane. He voiced these concerns to Piccolo, but Piccolo hadn't quite understood the depths to which Neru had fallen; after all, he was the one in control. He also didn't know of any way to release Neru, even if he had wanted to. Neru knew he shouldn't fault Piccolo for that, and he truly didn't, but...  
  
That was when his real desire to find a way to become himself again, even if it meant his death. He had been dreaming; one of the few freedoms still available to him, and also untouchable by Piccolo. In his dreams, he had been experiencing wonderful, placid visions of being free, living on Nameksei, experiencing old memories, and the like.  
  
That was when he appeared. Neru remembered the dream quite clearly. He wasn't really sure if the clear remembrance of the dream was a side affect of being fused with Piccolo, or something Diamaou had done, but... he remembered the dream vividly.  
  
He had been dreaming about training, and had thus decided to train as hard as he could before the dream ended. He had been warming up, throwing a variety of kicks and punches into whatever inanimate objects his dream provided, when the shadow appeared directly behind him. He had turned around, but no one had been there; only the tall, dark, deepening shadow on the ground in front of him. It wasn't his shadow, that much Neru knew, but he was perplexed.  
  
He was about to discount it as an oddity in his dream when he heard the voice, also directly in front of him. He remembered that it sounded distant, as if it wasn't quite there, more like a hiss than a voice, but Neru could make out the words well enough.  
  
"Who... are you?"  
  
Neru didn't really have any idea what was going on, but he figured that it was still just an aspect of his dream.  
  
"You may call me Neru." He replied, and at that the top of the shadow shifted, as if its owner was tilting their head in curiosity.  
  
"Neru, eh...? So you're the reason I'm here... I did not think that there were any other demons beside myself and, well, the one you currently inhabit. But it is no matter."  
  
Now Neru himself was confused, but at least he had Piccolo's memories as a frame of reference. Piccolo had considered himself a demon as well. Still did, if Neru was correct. Demon, alien, it didn't matter. On Earth, he was just as likely to be considered one as he would the other.  
  
"Demons? What are you talking about, and why are you here?"  
  
The shadow chuckled, if the voice indeed belonged to the shadow.  
  
"I am a friend, Neru... A friend who has come to help you... and in doing so, help myself. I have come to help you escape this imprisonment and punish the man who did this to you... for he has wronged me, as well."  
  
Neru didn't want to admit it, but he was intrigued... Even though this shadow was obviously guessing at the facts. He was right about the imprisonment, at least, but he made it sound like a malicious, vicious thing, clearly having no idea that Neru had volunteered to fuse with Piccolo. He was about to respond when he noticed the shadow drifting away, the voice fading as it spoke some final words.  
  
"I must leave now... the time allowed to me is short, but... think about it."  
  
The shadow vanished from view, and Neru frowned while pondering the shadow's words. What did it matter? It was only a stupid dream, and now that the voice was gone, he should get back to training. It was the one thing that kept his mind off his current state of affairs.  
  
The dream ended... but Neru found that the thoughts of freedom, of this mysterious figure did not. He knew it was stupid, illogical, and was probably just a dream, but Neru could not deny that the shadow had tantalized him with the prospect of freedom.  
  
Three days later, Neru dreamed again. In the dream, he had been again preparing for training exercises, but this time, the landscape was radically different. Fissures were all around him, the land seemed volcanic, and the blue hue of the original sky had been replaced with a deep, foreboding red.  
  
"I see you've come back."  
  
Neru spun around, expecting to be accosted by the same shadow as before, but this time, things had changed. The shadow was not merely a shadow anymore, but the ghostly, transparent outline of a man; a Nameksei-jin, as tall as he. As a matter of fact, if not for the... harshness of this man's gaze, he could have passed for Piccolo himself. He began to speak, but his voice was not so much a hiss this time; it had solidarity, it was stronger, and it wasn't as distant.  
  
"My brother, I must thank you for thinking of me." Neru's antennae shot up in surprise. This was too much of a coincidence to be a dream, but he kept his wits about him, determined to be the one asking questions, taking the offensive in this conversation.  
  
"Thinking of you? What do you mean? And why didn't you show yourself before?" Neru growled. Something about this man's eyes unnerved him, and he involuntarily shifted into a fighting posture. He could not fight a shadow, but this, this was something he felt he could, even if it did look like a ghost.  
  
The shadow raised it's transparent arms as if to push Neru away, outstretching them as if to show he had no hostile intent.  
  
"Peace brother... I am not here to fight with you. I intend to fight on an entirely different plane of existence..." His voice trailed off, but at this point it didn't matter. Neru was glad to interrupt and cut the figure off at this point.  
  
"I'm not your brother. Now answer my questions, leave, or prepare to fight." It was an idle threat, but Neru banked on the shadow not knowing just what kind of person he was. After all, he had talked of punishing Piccolo. The shadow shuddered, his face hardening a moment, as if he was not one used to being defied.  
  
"Watch your tongue, Neru. You trifle with one not to be trifled with." Neru stiffened in surprise before relaxing, confident that he could defeat the spectre... But it became unnecessary, as the figure's tone softened. Still cold, but without the malice it had previously contained a moment ago. "What I mean, Neru, is that by thinking of me you have given me a way in, you have given me substance where there was none. Do you not see me as I am now? Where I was once a mere shadow, now you can see my form. I have this because of you, and it is with your loyalty, your assistance, that we may both re-join the living... you will be free... as would I, and in the process, our dreams will be... complete."  
  
Neru was perplexed, but also interested... He trusted this mysterious man about as far as he would have trusted Freezer, but once again the lure of freedom tempted him. He was more than interested... now, he was curious.  
  
"Assuming I'd want to help you, what do you want me to do?"  
  
The figure smiled, before adopting a stance quite similar to the one Neru currently possessed.  
  
"All you have to do right now... is spar with me. Interact with me... Strengthen my hold on this plane of existence."  
  
"Plane of existence? Were you banished somewhere?"  
  
The figure shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"You could say that..."  
  
Their conversation ended that day, as the figure launched himself at Neru, and Neru found himself on the defensive briefly, before exchanging blow after blow with the figure. To his surprise, despite his transparency, the figure was quite solid, and proved to be a worthy sparring partner, at least in terms of skill.  
  
The two sparred within every dream Neru had from that point on, and as the dreams continued, Neru noticed two things. One, that the figure was growing steadily stronger and much more solid than before; every aspect of him. His features, his voice, and his demeanor. Two, the landscape continued to become cracked and even more barren and damaged than before. Sometimes, even as they were fighting, more pieces were destroyed, until the landscape seemed little more than a large expanse of floating rock islands in a void.  
  
Finally, after two weeks, the figure abruptly stopped Neru in the middle of a sparring session. He held up two hands, as if to yield, but his face was not the face of a man surrendered. Instead, his face was masked by a grin of triumph. Neru quirked an antennae, but as he was about to question the figure's hesitance, the figure burst into laughter, falling to his knees, overcome by the sheer mirth.  
  
"At long last, I've done it! I'm back, back to punish my son, and the one who did this to me! To wrench the life out of Kami's wretched planet!"  
  
Neru was stunned. He had wanted his freedom, and had planned to stop this man from punishing Piccolo when they were free; not that he thought Piccolo would have needed the assistance, if his sparring sessions were any indication. Still, if what this man was screaming in joy was true, he considered the fact that he may've made a mistake. He swore then and there that this man would not be alive for long, but...  
  
Neru was interrupted from his thoughts, as he realized that the man had stopped laughing at him and was glaring at him. The man, fully solid now, and still grinning ear to ear, beckoned across the tattered landscape with one long arm.  
  
"Come, Neru. We still have much to do... we must find Piccolo, first and foremost. It will all begin with him. He's out here, somewhere, unaware of my presence. With your assistance, we can defeat whatever barriers he has and infiltrate his subconscious. Then, and only then, will it begin..."  
  
Neru glowered, wondering if he should attempt to defeat this man now... But that would be the end of his chance at freedom. Whatever he did, he had to decide quickly... And his wish for freedom won out.  
  
He had become far weaker in the past months, far weaker indeed.  
  
"I don't even know your name."  
  
"I'd ask you to call me Piccolo... But that will get confusing. Call me Diamaou."  
  
"Diamaou..." Neru breathed. Demon, if he was correct.  
  
Diamaou flexed his arms, stretched, and then blasted off across the landscape. A split-second later, Neru, still feeling uncomfortable with the recent events, but determined to get his freedom, blasted off after him.  
  
It began.  
  
---  
  
From then, Neru stood and watched the landscape change and become even more tattered from within the confines of Piccolo's mind. Diamaou had begun his work. From his vantage point of seeing what Piccolo saw and felt, he could tell that the Nameksei-jin was becoming more and more erratic and unstable as Diamaou infested his subconscious, subjecting him to awful dreams that usually involved harming Son Gohan.  
  
Through them, Diamaou poisoned Piccolo's mind, body, and spirit, and it showed in the only representative of Piccolo his subconscious contained; tied to a stake, and looking more beaten, more bloody, and more battered with every dream Diamaou bestowed upon his son. Occasionally, when Diamaou was distracted, he tried to aid Piccolo's form, but the Nameksei-jin was too deluded, too deranged, to see Neru as a friend. Given the fight he and Diamaou had had to restrain him, Neru didn't blame Piccolo in the least.  
  
With every passing moment, he felt the pangs of guilt at what he was doing to Piccolo, but he was in too deeply now; there was no turning back. He could only hope that defeating Diamaou would undo the damage to the Nameksei-jin's mind. Through it all, he feigned loyalty to Diamaou, and whether distracted by his eminent triumph, or whether he didn't perceive Neru as a threat, the fiend did not notice.  
  
Then the most shocking moment came, and Neru was forced to acknowledge the price he was paying for his own freedom. It burned at him, annoyed him, damaged his self-image and his confidence, but gave him one resolve that almost overwhelmed his desire to be free; Diamaou had to die.  
  
It occurred shortly after Diamaou had lectured Neru about how close they both were, babbling some kind of nonsense about nearly taking over Piccolo's body; not just his subconscious, for good. Diamaou had hinted at something arriving, a new enemy for them to fight, but Neru had no idea what he was talking about... Until the both sensed the presence. It differed so from Diamaou and Piccolo's presence; Diamaou's was dark, Piccolo's was erratic and pain-filled, but this one... was pure. What surprised Neru even more was that it wasn't just pure, it seemed to be a near perfect duplicate of Diamaou, except that it felt... good. Righteous.  
  
The presence was the man that Piccolo had come to know as Kami.  
  
---  
  
Neru and Diamaou defeated Kami, although he had proven every bit as capable of Diamaou, and surely would have defeated the demon if he had not intervened. It was, Neru knew, one more stain on his legacy, one more stain on his honor, and one more evil act he was performing, just so he could be free.  
  
Diamaou was gone again, cementing his victory, and Neru knew that he had taken control of Piccolo's body. He was the victor, the conqueror, and Neru was left to wait. He watched over Kami and Piccolo's subconscious representations carefully. Both of them had ceased moving, their eyes closed, but Neru wasn't sure whether they could really be considered unconscious... because after all, wasn't the subconscious what was there when a person was unconscious?  
  
The time of the split was coming. Already, the main island which housed Piccolo, himself, and Kami was cracking, almost split into three pieces. Diamaou had instructed him to place Piccolo and Kami on one of the pieces, and to stand on the vacant piece.  
  
As a matter of fact, he was about to do that, as the island was breaking up, when the unthinkable happened. The man called Kami awoke, despite remaining impaled on the stake that held Piccolo. He glanced at Neru, and opened his mouth to speak, but no sound other than a faint whisper came out. The island was breaking up; He had placed Piccolo and Kami on one side, and made to leave, but Kami's eyes caught his gaze. Pleading yet remarkably... still clear. Not filled with torture and fear as Piccolo's were, but instead with the faintest hint of a focus.  
  
The eyes held Neru's gaze for a long moment, even as the moment of the split was at hand... And that was when Kami pointed towards the island that neither he, Piccolo, nor Neru resided on. The island that Neru knew, somehow symbolized Diamaou and his consciousness. Kami gestured towards it again, pointing sharply, and...  
  
Neru didn't understand the message, even as lightning bolts symbolized the fact that he had mere seconds left before the split. He wasted no time in acting though; he didn't know what Kami wanted, but he kept pointing intently at the island. Neru tore him off the stake, and with all his strength and speed in this dream world, hurled him towards Diamaou's island, pausing only for a second before jumping to his own. And then the blackness overtook him.  
  
---  
  
Neru stood up, glancing around the Nameksei-jin landscape of his dream. He hadn't intended to get lost in the memory of the events that had brought him back to "life", so to speak, but as he realized that the memory's too, were part of his dream, he began once again to feel the crushing guilt of his previous actions.  
  
That was when the landscape of Nameksei abruptly changed into a black void. Neru gasped in surprise, wondering how this flashback of the last events in his life, and the events through which he destroyed Piccolo's mind had turned into a nightmare. He blacked out, and when he came to, he found that he was in another room from his past; a room where he had spent the majority of his walking life.  
  
He was in the throne room of the Saichoro, kneeling in front of the throne... and the Saichoro himself! Neru stared up at him, biting his lip. How he wanted to acknowledge his presence! How he wanted to talk to his father! ... But he knew that it was only a dream.  
  
At least, that was what he had thought. Then the Saichoro moved, his old and wizened, cherished face, twitching, before his aged lips parted upwards in the slightest hint of a smile.  
  
"My son, why do you not speak?" He rumbled. Neru's eyes widened in surprise, his antennae standing straight up.  
  
"For-... Forgive me, Saichoro-sama. I had not realized that you were..."  
  
"Myself? You thought that I was merely a delusion of your dream?" The Saichoro chuckled, and to Neru, the sound felt like the most joyous thing he had every heard. Neru leapt forward, as if to embrace the man he had sworn to protect; however difficult that would have seemed, but the Saichoro held up a massive arm.  
  
"Stand back, my son. Though I am not necessarily a dream, but a projection, to touch me would draw you dangerously close to the afterlife in which I currently reside."  
  
Neru hesitated, contemplating whether to embrace the man anyway, bursting with a thousand questions, but he didn't know which one to ask.  
  
"But... Saichoro-sama... how... why?" He managed to get out, still overcome with emotion.  
  
"I have come because you are troubled son, and because there is a great danger you must be made aware of. This danger threatens not just the innocent people of Piccolo's planet, but also the people of our own Nameksei." The Saichoro's voice grew dark, and his smile vanished. He was clearly disturbed.  
  
Neru's eyes narrowed, guessing at the threat. "Diamaou."  
  
The Saichoro nodded. "He must be defeated, my son, he who is so different from the principles that our people cherish, that our people represent. He seeks not peace, but war. He embraces not love, but hate. He seeks only to destroy. And yet, this warning is not why I have come... I sense that you are aware of this."  
  
Neru nodded, biting his lip to prevent from crying out. In the past moments, as the Saichoro had darkly intoned Diamaou's intentions, Neru felt that perhaps his father, his master, was displeased with him. After all, hadn't he helped Diamaou? Hadn't he also destroyed? He fell to his knees, overcome.  
  
The Saichoro regarded him, and... sighed.  
  
"Speak, Neru. Tell me your concerns, tell me what you must, and do not fear."  
  
Neru held nothing back, collapsing to the ground, the tears now streaming down his face, the anguish, the pain, evident in every sob-tainted word he uttered.  
  
"I did it, Saichoro! I unleashed him upon this world! He could not have done what he has to Piccolo without me, he could not have become so powerful because of me! I was weak, completely and utterly weak, and I am not even worthy to call myself a Nameksei-jin anymore! I would be better off as a demon like him... I did this all to help myself! I'm no warrior... I'm a coward."  
  
The tears and sobs continued, and perhaps most painstakingly for Neru, the Saichoro did not say a word. He only sat there staring at Neru, regarding him sympathetically, his heart going out to his son.  
  
The Saichoro's voice came sternly, but with tinges of pity, tinges of forgiveness held within.  
  
"My son... You have suffered greatly. You have endured much. And you will endure this." At the mention of the word "will", the Saichoro's tone became more forceful, so forceful that Neru, even in his surge of emotion, was forced to stare up at his face. The Saichoro's visage was stern, stark contrast to Neru's mask of pain, and the much older man continued.  
  
"Forgive yourself, my son. Just as Freezer would not be redeemed by a single good deed, nor will you be damned by a single evil deed. You are, without a doubt, one of the bravest Nameksei-jin that ever lived. You are a hero to our people; and you are still honored highly among them. Though I am dead, I still hear our people, and not a day goes by when I do not hear your name. Our people remain strong, my son, and you too, will remain strong."  
  
"But..." Neru began, as the Saichoro's words sunk in. The Saichoro had shaken him, reminded him of his past deeds, past accomplishments, and in doing so, had snapped Neru out of his emotional state. Neru wanted to speak again, but he noticed the Saichoro becoming transparent.  
  
"Don't leave me!" Neru screamed, "Please!" He pleaded. The Saichoro regarded him sadly, but his face contained hope.  
  
"I will always be with you, my son. Never forget that..." The Saichoro faded away completely, leaving Neru with more questions than answers.  
  
"Wait, father! What do you want me to do? How can I defeat Diamaou? Guide me, please!"  
  
A wind rustled through the hall as it faded away, the dream ending, but as it ended, Neru heard that patient chuckle, that quiet, paternal voice, one last time.  
  
"You already know, my son... Remember. Be strong, not troubled. There are those who still need your help; and you may be the only one who can counter his plan, the only one he did not consider..."  
  
---  
  
"Neru...? Neru... Neru! Wake up!"  
  
Neru stirred groggily, a familiar voice resounding in his ear. Who was shaking him? He had been dreaming, had heard the Saichoro's last words, and then... He opened his eyes to see Kuririn and Gohan, the two earthlings, standing above him, both of them wearing concerned expressions on their faces.  
  
"You back with us, Neru? It's a good thing Gohan and I found you... why didn't you tell us you were so tired?" Kuririn's voice was tinged with concern, and it was apparent that they had been trying to wake him for a minute or so. Neru's eyes and cheeks felt wet, and he wondered if...  
  
"Neru-san? Are you all right? You looked as if you were crying!" Gohan chimed in, concerned, but making the innocent observation Kuririn had purposely avoided so as not to embarrass the Nameksei-jin warrior.  
  
Neru sat up, shaking the drowsiness out of his arms, as Kuririn and Gohan stepped back, giving him room. A moment later, with impressive speed, the Nameksei-jin flipped to his feet in a maneuver that nearly stole Gohan and Kuririn's breath, so quick were his movements.  
  
"I'm fine, but you have my gratitude for the concern. What's going on?"  
  
Gohan shrugged, pointing at Kuririn, and Kuririn spoke again. "Well, we figured we'd better find you and come up with some kind of plan to figure out what we were going to do about Diamaou. I was also curious in asking you a few questions about Piccolo. After all, we haven't really had an opportunity to discuss what's been going on yet."  
  
Neru grimaced, and both Kuririn and Gohan eyed him curiously. The Nameksei- jin was clearly burdened by something, perhaps the notion of having to tell the two of them what he knew. He gestured down the hallway.  
  
"Let's find some place a little more comfortable, and I'll tell you two all I know."  
  
Gohan nodded and turned to lead them down the hallway, and even though Kuririn was in charge, he nodded and beckoned for Neru to follow the child. He knew the look Neru had had on his face, and that look was bad news. At least walking towards a more comfortable area would give the man time to figure out what he had to say.  
  
---  
  
Neru frowned and sighed, and Kuririn still heard him, despite the fact that Neru was straying in the back. He had decided that he was going to tell the earthlings everything he knew and just hope that Piccolo's young protégé wouldn't tear his head off when he did. He knew from Piccolo's memories what Son Gohan had a tendency to do when pissed off, and, well...  
  
He quirked an antennae, and smiled slightly in spite of himself. Maybe Son Gohan would turn out to be twice the enemy that Diamaou currently was. The thought of Gohan made Neru hesitate for a moment, and he paused in his movements. Son Gohan was already down the hallway, but Kuririn noticed, and turned to look at him.  
  
"Something wrong, Neru?" He asked. Neru glanced away.  
  
"Yeah. Can I talk to Piccolo for a moment? The child isn't going to like what I have to say, and in the event that something regrettable happens, I'd like to tell him something before I tell you two what's going on."  
  
Kuririn nodded, not asking the warrior what he meant, and pointed to a hallway on the left.  
  
"Just go down there, it's the first door on your right. Then come back here, go straight up the hallway we're in right now, and Gohan and I will be in the room on your left."  
  
Neru nodded his thanks, and Kuririn went up the hallway, while Neru went left. He didn't exactly know what he was going to say to Piccolo, and he doubted that Piccolo would understand him, but before he could begin, he felt that he had to apologize for the mess he had caused.  
  
A cool breeze, not unlike the wind of Earth, drifted down the hallway, and Neru couldn't help but marvel at the feeling... and the smell. "These Earthlings are amazing... They can even mimic the air from the outside world with their machines!" He turned, opened the door to Piccolo's room, and... stared.  
  
---  
  
Gohan happily slurped the milkshake he had procured after arriving in the recreational room. Bulma's drink was slightly more adult and probably alcoholic. Bulma had proceeded to this room while Kuririn and Gohan had gone to find Neru, and the woman had thoughtfully instructed some Capsule Corps robots to prepare food and drink for the four of them.  
  
Gohan glanced at Kuririn and Bulma, curious, and Kuririn answered his unasked question.  
  
"Neru wanted to say something to Piccolo before he talked to us, Gohan. I think he wanted to say he was sorry, or something."  
  
"Sorry? What's there for him to be sorry for? I mean, from what I heard, he really helped you guys out!" Bulma interjected, sipping her beer.  
  
Kuririn placed his beverage on a nearby coffee table, kicked his feet up, and shrugged. "Well, hopefully he'll tell us what it is when he gets here."  
  
Gohan opened his mouth to ask Kuririn why he thought Neru might be sorry, but just then, Neru burst through the door, causing Gohan, Kuririn, and Bulma to all jump to their feet. Unfortunately, Gohan's milkshake didn't quite clear the child's lap, and it went flying, creating a rather sticky mess that the robots hurried over to clean up.  
  
"Gohan, be more careful!" Bulma admonished, wagging her finger at Neru to say something, but Kuririn cut her off.  
  
"Neru? That sure was quick! What's wrong?"  
  
Neru's face was grim, his features stone. He tried to think of how to word what he was going to say, but he opted to spit it out in the quickest way possible.  
  
"Piccolo's escaped."  
  
In a moment, their immediate problem had become much worse than a milkshake spilled on the carpet.  
  
---  
  
Gohan recovered from the shock first, as his face contorted from an expression of surprise to an expression of rage. Overcome by emotion, the child grasped at a straw instead of taking a moment to trust his instincts. He bolted for the exit, ignoring Kuririn's sharp cry to stop, fixating only on the first conclusion his mind allowed him: Diamaou had taken Piccolo!  
  
"Gohan, wait!" Kuririn pleaded, "It can't be Diamaou! We'd sense him!" The child continued storming towards the door with reckless abandon, not swayed by his friend's words, being so enraged that they hardly registered. Kuririn threw up his hands in exasperation, hoping against hope that Gohan would come to his senses before he was out of the room and flying miles away.  
  
"Damn it, Gohan! We need to come up with a plan, this is exactly what Diamaou would want!"  
  
Fortunately for Kuririn, he was not the only person in the room. As Son Gohan rushed for the door, he found himself bull-rushed by Neru, who tackled the child and pinned him down. Gohan kicked and screamed, and an errant kick landed on Neru's nose, but he was already showing signs of calming down; the physical contact had quelled his rage long enough for him to think.  
  
Neru kept him pinned for a long moment, staring into Gohan's eyes with a stern, piercing gaze, as the last indicators of rage dissipated from the child, only to be replaced by shame.  
  
"I... I'm sorry I acted that way, Neru. Will you let me up now, please?" Gohan stammered, and the tone in his voice suggested that he meant it. Slowly, warily, Neru stood up and backed away, idly rubbing his VERY sore nose. He kept his eyes locked on Son Gohan, and the child felt as if he was melting. The glare was exactly like the glare Piccolo would have given him had he disapproved of something. He tried to match it, and failed, eventually dipping his head to the ground and averting his gaze. It was a Namek thing.  
  
Satisfied that the child wasn't about to fly off the handle again, Neru turned and nodded to Kuririn. Kuririn stood there thinking for a moment, trying to formulate a new plan in his head; he hadn't really had one to start with!  
  
Fortunately, Bulma bailed him out, as the woman stood up. During the whole incident with Gohan, she had been thinking, tapping a finger against her chin, running through the thoughts in her head, but now a triumphant grin blossomed across her face, as she idly brushed a few strands of her (as yet, long) hair out of her eyes.  
  
"Guys, I've got it! I bet I could modify the Dragon Radar to detect Nameksei-jin lifesigns! Then you'd be able to find Diamaou and Piccolo!"  
  
Son Gohan jumped up, excited over this turn of events, and the thought that a surefire way to find Piccolo would surface had clearly banished his shame.  
  
"Bulma! That's brilliant! How long will it take?" The boy inquired, even as Neru allowed himself a slight, skeptical smirk. It certainly seemed like a good idea, but there had been precious little regard about Bulma in Piccolo's thoughts, and he hadn't really come to expect technological miracles the way Kuririn and Gohan had.  
  
The woman shrugged, but the smile on her face betrayed her confidence. "I'd imagine it would take about an hour or two."  
  
An hour. A small bit of time in the real world, but Kuririn couldn't help but feel that every minute counted, especially when Piccolo might be getting farther away; and more vulnerable to whatever Diamaou might have in mind, by the second.  
  
The man without a nose quirked an eyebrow, and regarded Neru and Gohan with stiff nods. "All right then, here's what we'll do. Piccolo can't have gone too far or we'd have sensed him, so I'll go north and look for him. Neru, you go west, and Gohan can go south. That way-"  
  
Gohan had abruptly raised his hand, but interrupted his friend without being acknowledged. "Kuririn, can I go west? I should really check on my mom and the dragon... And that place is familiar to Piccolo anyway, so maybe he's heading in that direction?"  
  
Kuririn smiled and nodded. "Sure, kiddo. In fact, maybe you should ask your mother if she can come to Capsule Corps. She'll be safer here. I don't feel that comfortable with anyone we know out there while Diamaou's... about."  
  
"Thanks!" The child ran out the door with determined, light steps, and this time Neru did not have to tackle him.  
  
A bead of sweat appeared on Kuririn's forehead, as he muttered, "I wasn't done..." He looked at Neru, and a small smirk was again etched onto the Nameksei-jin warrior's face.  
  
"I suppose I'll be going south then? And isn't there anyone we can find to go east?"  
  
Kuririn shrugged. "Well, most of the city is in the east, so I figured that if he'd gone that way, we'd just be hearing news reports about a strange green man running rampant through the streets. Tenshinhan and Yamucha are willing, but..." Kuririn lowered his voice.  
  
"Well, Yamucha's out of commission for at least two weeks without senzu, and Tenshinhan isn't much better. Chaozu is watching them, but Tenshinhan would never forgive me if I put him in any danger...  
  
Neru's grinned after nodding somberly at the condition of Kuririn's friends. "Come to think of it, when three strange, pasty colored fellows came to my planet, we heard all sorts of "news reports". You humans are the strange ones."  
  
Had he been there, Son Goku may have hesitated, asking Neru a question about Nameksei-jin news reports, but Kuririn understood the joke, as sarcasm was a language evidently mastered by Nameksei-jin as well as by humans.  
  
"C'mon, let's go. See you later, Bulma!"  
  
The woman with blue-green hair hardly heard the farewell, as she was already busily dismantling the Dragon Radar, tweaking and poking it with a variety of devices that neither Neru nor Kuririn could guess at.  
  
--- 


	8. Tainted Soul Chapter 8

Tainted Soul  
Chapter 8  
By Cremrock  
  
Piccolo would have run to the edge of the world, if he could. He couldn't escape the odd, fleeting notion that he should have remained in his room, but in his present state, it was all he was. He was a frightened animal, having thought himself caged a bit ago, and now he was running for his life at a speed normal humans would have found impossible. Now that he had exited the city, he wondered what those strange, hard structures were? He would have been curious if he hadn't been so intent on his flight across the windswept valley that swept around West City.  
  
His fled, anxious to get away from the person that his instincts told him to flee from. Green people... Nameksei-jin. The words floated across his mind, but in his current state, it wasn't a word from a language; it was a sound. Nameksei-jin hurt him. Nameksei-jin caused him pain, and he knew he had to flee from them. Much in the same way the herbivores of a forest warned one another, the sound Nameksei-jin was a warning to this one.  
  
It was a shame. The smaller, paler skinned ones had almost seemed kind, if kindness were a concept that he could currently grasp. Instead, all he could grasp was... pain, suffering, and tears...  
  
Since his psyche had been destroyed or detained, he had in a sense become reborn as a newborn child, and pain, suffering, and tears were all his conscious state had been exposed to. He felt like he should be remembering something... doing something... but he had no time to think, to ponder such thoughts. He looked over his shoulder, but no one was chasing him now. Spurred by memories of the pain he had suffered... he ran anyway.  
  
---  
  
Like a thunderbolt, Son Gohan streaked through the crisp, thin air in the blue sky. A normal human would have found the temperature at this altitude quite uncomfortable, but then, a normal human wouldn't be flying without aid of hang glider, airplane, or capsule jet. The ki that served as his propulsion kept him plenty warm enough, and thanks to that matter, the only distraction currently on his mind was what he was going to tell his mother when he got home.  
  
"Mom sure won't want me to go chasing after Piccolo in lieu of my studies... but how can I make her understand? This isn't some joyride, this is about a threat to the world!"  
  
At that thought, a frown creased his face, but he quickly banished it with another thought.  
  
"If I can't make her understand... She'll just have to catch me."  
  
He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he supposed that being grounded for life was better than having someone wreck the world.  
  
His immediate thoughts were trounced when he realized, to his surprise, that he couldn't sense his mother's ki. Granted, it wasn't as if she had an exceptionally large ki, but it was marginally greater than the ki everyday people possessed, and what was more, she was the only person for miles.  
  
"Well... maybe she's asleep."  
  
The expression of concern on his face belied his rationalization, and like it or not, he was about to become distracted. The ki surrounding him expanded and then became more focused, and the child hurtled through the air as quickly as his formidable power would allow him to.  
  
---  
  
As quietly as he could, Kuririn swept through the deep darkness of the cavern. He had discovered it almost by accident while flying past the mountainous region north of the city. It was just like a hundred other caves that dotted the landscape, except for one thing.  
  
Kuririn had sensed a ki in this one. It had been faint, but easily recognizable. Only one being he knew of had a ki as dark as the one he had felt.  
  
In spite of the cool air, beads of perspiration slid down the monks' face. He wanted to know why Diamaou's ki felt weak instead of strong, but that was not the reason he hadn't returned to find Neru and the others, not the reason he was risking a solo confrontation with the terrifying demon.  
  
No, Kuririn crept through the cavern not for personal pride, but because he had sensed another ki with Diamaou's deep in the mountain. And when dealing with Diamaou, Kuririn knew that such weaker ki's had a tendency to get snuffed out like candles, and if Diamaou had a hostage...  
  
He didn't want to go in without his friends at his back, but if there was an innocent life at stake, he had no choice. He resisted the temptation to raise his ki so that Gohan and Neru could sense it; but it would be like sending up a flare, and Diamaou would know he was there. All he wanted to do was sneak in, rescue Diamaou's victim, or perhaps discern if this other ki was an ally of his, and get out. Maybe Diamaou had captured Piccolo.  
  
As he entered a wide-open cavern that would have been perfect for an ambush, he was tempted once again to raise his ki, but decided against it. It wouldn't offer him much of an advantage in an ambush, and if his senses were correct, the ki; Kuririn only sensed one now, was still ahead.  
  
In the shadow of a large stalactite that had dominated the cavern, Diamaou clung to the ceiling with batlike tenacity, smiling as Kuririn passed by. The web had been drawn, and now this insignificant, and yet so crucial, human fly was being led straight in.  
  
Quickly, Diamaou stalked off to close the web.  
  
Kuririn gasped in surprise at the heat of the next cavern. He had known he was dwelling deeper and deeper into the mountain, but this had been entirely unexpected. Ahead of him the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern that looked as if it had been carved naturally rather than formed. Aside from a large island of a rock in the middle, roughly 300 feet away, there was only a twisted, curving bridge of solid rock that spanned the gap, a gap filled by molten rock, that surrounded the island. In the ceiling and the walls were holes, but if bridges had led to them, they had evidently collapsed long ago.  
  
"My enemy doesn't need bridges..." Kuririn reminded himself.  
  
The ki was shortly ahead now, and one of them had vanished. Kuririn wasn't sure which had; the kis had weakened, and he could no longer sense Diamaou's taint. Tentatively, he stepped onto the bridge, trying to be as quiet as possible. The heat from the molten rock produced a cumbersome haze, and as a result, the monk couldn't make out anything ON the island... the only thing that allowed him to know someone was there was the ki he felt. He sorely hoped it wasn't a large animal, or this journey would have been for nothing.  
  
He heard a weak moan from the direction of the island, far too weak, (Not to mention feminine) to be Diamaou. His suspicions confirmed, Kuririn shifted uncomfortably at the sound, and then got down on his hands and knees. The fog was thick, and the bridge was constantly slanting upwards... For once, Kuririn was glad for his lack of height.  
  
"I should remain concealed if I'm careful... It's show time, Kuririn!"  
  
Quietly, he began his ascent. As he had suspected, the fog concealed him, and he couldn't even see his hand.  
  
"I can't help but think that that's a good thing," He considered, before continuing his ascent.  
  
The bad thing was that the fog left him blissfully unaware of the figure behind him.  
  
---  
  
Under normal conditions, Neru would have greatly enjoyed the cool breeze that left his antennae plastered to his forehead, his clothes ruffling around him, and the entire experience reminding him of the sheer joy that he felt at being alive, and what was more, to be flying.  
  
Unfortunately, these were far from normal circumstances, and as a result Neru's expression was resolute and firm rather than tinged with joy.  
  
The Nameksei-jin was trying to come to grips with what he felt deep within his soul. He had been weak, he had embarked upon a less than noble, less than courageous path, and now he believed that he might not be able to do anything to change it. Even in his despair, he felt he could live with that, but another disturbing possibility came to him.  
  
Was it that he did not have the strength to want to change it? He had thought his plan a sound one; had all gone according to plan no permanent damage would be done to Piccolo, and he would go on his own merry way once Diamaou had been disposed of.  
  
Obviously, it hadn't gone as Neru intended. He clenched his teeth, nearly shaking with rage over the current situation. How could he have been so blind to Diamaou's machinations?  
  
As he flew, he found his thoughts drifting back to the past, where the first seeds had been planted, the first inklings that had made him wish he was separated from Piccolo.  
  
It had seemed like such a noble thing to do at the time, or so he had thought. Fuse with Piccolo, give his race one last chance at victory over Freezer, or die in the dust, broken, useless, and defeated. The choice had been such an easy one to make at the time, but...  
  
...It had gotten harder in a hurry as regrets accumulated. He remembered the first one, but at the time, he hadn't really thought he would be around to remember it. It was rooted in the same source that so many other Nameksei- jin regrets had been rooted in; the battle with Freezer. He remembered every moment of those fights with painstaking detail, whether he'd been in his own body or Piccolo's. The full range of emotions had certainly been invested during that battle. At first he had felt, even sensed that he had made the crucial difference needed, as Piccolo had shattered Freezer's second form with attack after punishing attack.  
  
Such power he had felt! He knew that it was Piccolo's, but it was still amazing to feel, especially since he had had his own battle with Freezer to use as a reference. But after, when Freezer had changed forms, came the emotional turmoil and realization that Freezer possessed power beyond any that he had ever foreseen, though if the legends were true there had been a Nameksei-jin with that much power in the past.  
  
Neru came to grips with it sooner than Piccolo had, but he had had the luxury of already knowing what it was like to be so outmatched, after his fight with Freezer outside of the Saichoro's hut. But it was after, when Freezer shifted to his fourth form, that Neru began to wonder about the merits of his choice. That was when he had watched Dende, the child he had always fancied himself a mentor to, had died at Freezer's hand. The slaughter of his people had filled Neru with pain, but this had been the first one he had witnessed personally, and as an aside, the first death he might have been able to do anything about, for he had been safeguarding the Saichoro the entire time.  
  
After the ordeal was over, and Freezer had been defeated, Neru couldn't help thinking about what he would have done had he not been joined with Piccolo. His quarrel wasn't with the Namek himself; he felt the force of Piccolo's attacks after Dende had died, and the Nameksei-jin's rage was legitimate, as was the rage of his friends Son Gohan and Kuririn. Under the circumstances, he had no doubt he would have attacked in the same way, for all the good it did.  
  
And yet... Neru often wondered what he would have done. Could he have pushed Dende out of the way? Dived in front of him and taken the blast? He reminded himself all to often that they were foolish thoughts and didn't mean anything; Dende was alive, as were his people, so the brooding thoughts didn't matter now. But it did make him begin to wish there was a way out.  
  
Those feelings intensified when his people had left Earth a year later. Soon after, he began to wish that he had gone with them. He might have been able to live with it had Piccolo gone to Namek, but he knew that the man considered the world almost as foreign as he would considered Earth. Both men found beauty in the others' planets, but both also felt that they much preferred their own planets.  
  
Shaking his head, and removing himself from his thoughts of the past, he scanned the landscape, sighing to himself at his most recent conclusion.  
  
"I seek atonement... But am I going through this the right way?" Neru didn't know, as his antennae continued to blow in the wind, but he did know one thing as a strange howling reached his ears, echoing through the air. Down below in a small clearing, was a figure in tattered clothing, but one who was as tall and green-skinned as himself. He had found Piccolo. ---  
  
Kuririn continued forward, inch-by-inch, and as he continued he was able to making out more and more of the island, while beginning to wish he hadn't.  
  
Ringed around the island were five large statues, each depicting two men; one of them appearing frail and weak, wizened by the elements and thinned, as if his life had been leeched out of him. The other one of them appeared young and strong, in the prime of his life. The two appeared to be in different stages of disagreement. In the first statue the youth appeared to be pleading with the old man, while in the second the old man had his hand raised threateningly. Kuririn winced at the expression on the young statue's face, so real, and filled with terror. The third statue had the old man standing with his hands raised triumphantly, with the addition of a bizarre crystal above the youth. The fourth statue was the most bizarre of all; as there were now four figures in the statue, the old man, the youth, and two figures; bodies, Kuririn realized, lying on their backs to the sides of the youth. The crystal still lay over the youth, and the old man himself appeared incomplete; almost as if he was melting away, while the youth maintained the terrified look, with the exception that he appeared to be screaming. The statue was so vivid that Kuririn could almost imagine the shriek.  
  
The fifth statue was auspicious in that there was only one figure, the youth, standing in it. But the face of the youth was the face of the old man, wild-eyed and cruel.  
  
Kuririn suppressed a shudder under the intense gaze of the fifth statue. Hadn't Kami said something about dark rituals taking place when otherworldly souls had escaped the afterlife and found bodies to corrupt and inhabit?  
  
"Quit scaring yourself," Kuririn chided himself softly. "Someone over there needs your help." He crept closer; the figure was tied to the ground, lying on their side, but Kuririn couldn't make the figure out yet. It certainly wasn't a stretch to presume that this had been the other ki he had sensed, and Kuririn felt relief at that. Diamaou was bad enough without having an ally.  
  
He hesitated a moment, knowing that something about the situation wasn't right at all. Where was Diamaou? And why did this vaguely feminine figure look so familiar, even from behind? It was only when the semi-conscious figure rolled over, emitting another hollow moan, that Kuririn realized the truth.  
  
"What the hell is Chi-chi doing there? I've got to get her out of here!" Not even bothering to worry about the consequences, he leapt to his feet and sprinted towards the woman. Had it been someone else, or had she not needed such urgent help, Kuririn could have hesitated, but he knew that Son Gohan would never have forgiven him, and Chi-chi was his friend, too.  
  
Besides, she was only three steps away, and Kuririn had already formulated a simple plan by the time he had taken one; grab her and get the hell out of there. He resolved to blast a hole out of the mountain to escape, and damn the consequences!  
  
Behind Kuririn, through the fog that apparently still concealed him from view; Diamaou sprung. Kuririn was only one step away from Chi-chi when the demon landed in front of him; such was his speed. The quick amount of ki Kuririn sensed told him that the trap had been sprung, even if his eyes hadn't yet realized that Diamaou was in front of him, and he instinctively rolled to the left, Diamaou's fist smacking off his shoulder as the demon made his first attack.  
  
But Diamaou had been aiming at his head, and as a result of the demon's inability to change the direction of his blow, Kuririn was able to leap to his feet in a defensive posture, rather than crumple to the ground unconscious.  
  
Suddenly faced with one of his worst nightmares, Diamaou leered over him, his smirk not unlike that of Piccolo's. Then he chuckled, noting the fear in Kuririn's eyes, before opening his mouth to speak.  
  
"You dodged. Perhaps I underestimated you, little man."  
  
Kuririn tensed as he finished the statement, but Diamaou made no move to attack, so Kuririn decided to talk with him; maybe even stall him until he could think of an alternate way to escape with Chi-chi.  
  
After all, he'd been counting on a head start.  
  
"What do you want with Chi-chi, Diamaou?" His voice was unwavering, though Kuririn had been frightened in many conflicts before, he had perfected masking his fear when the chips were down.  
  
Diamaou grinned, showing all his teeth before a predictable, sarcastic reply.  
  
"Maybe I was just lonely and wanted some companionship... It got you to come..." Kuririn would have rolled his eyes if he could have, but he refused to take his eyes off of Diamaou for a second.  
  
"Considering what I did to you a few hours ago, I'm surprised you WANT my company," Kuririn said boldly. If he could enrage Diamaou, it might give him a way to escape, or so he reasoned.  
  
Diamaou's response was cold and calculated, with nothing but a tone that even contained, Kuririn thought, a hint of respect.  
  
"Yes... I was surprised that someone as weak as you would deliver an attack like that... As I said, I underestimated you."  
  
Kuririn grinned savagely, remembering his first encounter with Piccolo; the real Piccolo, at the Tenkaichi Ichi Budoukai; or World's martial arts tournament. Hadn't Piccolo said something similar then?  
  
"...But the problem was, you underestimated me." Diamaou finished, fading out of sight and leaving Kuririn to realize that he'd been talking to an illusion, an after-image.  
  
"A projection?!" Kuririn realized, but he scarcely had time to consider what to do next, his expression of surprise shifting to one of pain, before all was darkness.  
  
Diamaou grinned, standing over the monk's unconscious form, his hand still sticking out where he had chopped the man in the neck. Had he wanted to, he had strength enough to cleave the monk's head clean off, but Diamaou needed him alive.  
  
After all, the 3rd statue had two bodies in the tableau, not one.  
  
--- Piccolo clearly wasn't as happy to see Neru as Neru was to see him. He had been running as quickly as he could to escape Neru, only because his instincts told him to run, and now Neru had found him.  
  
Neru landed on the ground several feet away from him, his face set, but Piccolo didn't recognize the look as one of concern, shrinking away from the Namek, almost too terrified to move.  
  
"I'm here to help you, Piccolo."  
  
In his current state of mindlessness, Piccolo didn't know what the word 'help' met. He remained still; that is, until Neru took a step forward, proffering a hand. Piccolo let out a shriek and stepped back, his head furiously scanning the area. What little sense of reality that remained in him told him that he could not possibly run faster than someone who could fly.  
  
Neru recognized the panic, but he didn't recognize what Piccolo thought, didn't recognize what the tortured man was thinking. In his own way, Piccolo was acting logically; but more like an animal.  
  
With all routes of escape blocked, Piccolo did what any animal that feared for its life and was cornered would do, even as Neru took another step forward, trying to appear unthreatening.  
  
He attacked as savagely and as powerfully as he could, both hands lunging for Neru's throat, pouncing at him. Neru, taken aback by the unanticipated ferocity of Piccolo's attack, lost his balance and fell under Piccolo's weight, and for a split second, Piccolo actually held an advantage over Neru, despite his weakened state.  
  
But Neru was more skilled than Piccolo in his current state, and had in fact only been delayed in his reaction because he hadn't wanted to cause Piccolo further harm. Unfortunately, he knew that he couldn't help Piccolo's body one bit; he had to free his mind. And in order to do that, he had to free his consciousness from its prison, then heal it, and there was only one way to free it: from inside Piccolo mind.  
  
"I'm sorry," Neru said, before knocking Piccolo unconscious with one blow, an easy task with Piccolo as unfocused as he was.  
  
He then pressed his fingers to Piccolo's temples; feeling his own eyes begin to droop with sleep. Sometimes, on Nameksei, he had sparred with his kin not physically, but mentally. It was a way to fight on an even plane and to learn strategy without any physical damage being done; he himself had employed the technique with many of his students, as there had been quite a gulf between his power and theirs.  
  
Now, as he drifted into unconsciousness, he hoped it would take him back to where he was when he had attacked Kami; Piccolo's first line of mental defense, and the part of him that made him who he was.  
  
It did.  
  
--- Neru tumbled through blackness aimlessly, with no control over his direction or movement. His body still ached, but then, when he looked down, he wasn't entirely sure he had a body. Instead he was only... aware, drifting through Piccolo's subconscious as his perspective of the world around him shifted into an array of dazzling colors that clashed with one another, again and again. Brown and pink, blue and gray, and a variety of colors that couldn't really be called colors; he had never seen anything like them before.  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but found that in his current state, he didn't have a voice.  
  
"What the hell's going on here?" The sound echoed around him, enough to convince Neru that he did have a voice, but he hadn't consciously spoken... no, he had thought that. It seemed to be working though; had there been anyone beside himself to listen. "Where am I?"  
  
Again, there was no response. Truth be told, it was a stupid question... Neru knew where he was; somewhere in Piccolo's tortured and tattered mind, but he had very little idea of how to get to where he had to go. If his memory was correct, he should be seeing an island; something to represent Piccolo's mind, his consciousness, and his sanity... but instead there was... nothing.  
  
That was when it opened up in front of him, a swirling vortex that began to spin the colors in his perspective around and around, again and again, faster and faster. Neru didn't exactly know how, but he felt himself being pulled towards that vortex. It was not a place he wanted to go, but he had little choice; he was... drawn to it.  
  
He had nothing to say, or think, in protest as he felt himself be sucked in.  
  
---  
  
Neru was dizzy; so dizzy. Not so much because of the vortex, to his amazement, he had appeared with his body as soon as he had passed through it, or at least a representation of his body. No, what was dizzying was the landscape that swirled below him, as he fell straight through Piccolo's mind.  
  
What Neru saw made him gasp with surprise, as he clenched his brow in amazement. He didn't know what twisted machinations had caused this, but he knew who was responsible. He decided to try out his voice; he would need it if he found some facet of Piccolo anyway.  
  
"Diamaou."  
  
Neru had found his island, but it was twisted, warped, with jagged rock formations all over, and no discernible path through. It was chaos, chaos in the form of a maze; a maze that might have no exit.  
  
"So that's how he kept Piccolo on edge once I had... left."  
  
Neru knew what he had to do; or rather what he thought he had to do. He had to find where Piccolo had been chained when he was last there... when he had been a permanent resident of this plane. He stared in silence for a moment, unsure of where to begin.  
  
That was when he heard the screams. He tried to figure out the direction they were coming from, but they were at all decibel levels, and coming from all around him. He did recognize that they were Piccolo's... but that was about all. He craned his eyes back towards the maze; Piccolo had to be somewhere in there, but... where? He was still falling, but a quick look down at his newly formed hands told him all he needed to know; he was the captain of his ship again, he could propel himself through this plane, and did so, as he touched down in the maze. It seemed like as good a place as any to start.  
  
A chill breeze blew across his back, and as he pulled his vest closer to him, he wondered why everything was so uncomfortable. Even during Diamaou's plot, he had always felt comfortable in Piccolo's consciousness, but now he felt different. Now he felt like he was...  
  
"An intruder."  
  
The cold, yet strangely familiar voice came across his ears with all the intensity of a gunshot, but as he spun around, he found nothing behind him, nothing to indicate that the voice had come from behind him... So why did he so keenly think that the voice had come from behind him?  
  
His antennae drooped on his face, as he grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, relaxing himself for a fight, if need be. "Show yourself, whoever you are."  
  
He didn't receive an answer, and was just about to relax, thinking it just a side effect of Piccolo's erratic mental state, when the voice responded with a reply, no less cold than before.  
  
"Feed me. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for in the process."  
  
"Who are you? I know you can't be Diamaou."  
  
"Find me... and find out. Who says I can't be him?"  
  
That was when the same scream he had heard before struck him, only this time louder, more pain-filled. In spite of himself, Neru took off running. He doubted anyone could do any more damage to Piccolo, but he was resolved to find him; to stop those screams.  
  
"Those screams... that I helped cause." The landscape was flat and barren, no impediment to his speed, and he found himself hugging the left wall of the maze. He would follow this maze for miles, if necessary. He had to find Piccolo.  
  
After what seemed like hours, but could well have been seconds in the actual world, the screams started to appear again, this time getting louder. Then the screams cut to silence again, and the voice returned just as Neru was faced with a dead end.  
  
"You're close; I'll give you that."  
  
"Enough of this. I don't know who you are, but release Piccolo... stop being a coward and show yourself."  
  
"Why should I? As I said, you're close."  
  
Neru frowned, and then smiled a bit. It wasn't what he normally would have done under the circumstances, but then he realized, here on Piccolo's consciousness, he shouldn't do what he wanted to do... he should do what Piccolo would've done.  
  
"Like I said, enough." Neru raised his hand and blasted the wall in front of him to smithereens. Its fragments scattered across the sky, and Neru stepped through only to find himself in a large, circular area. In the middle was Piccolo, looking even worse than he had when Neru had attacked Kami. The once proud Nameksei-jin was staring quietly, his face a mass of bruises, swollen tissue, and a constant, pain-filled grimace. Neru couldn't see Piccolo's body from where he was, but figured that it couldn't have been much better.  
  
He strode towards Piccolo purposefully.  
  
"Hang on; I'll cut you down in just a moment, Piccolo."  
  
"No, no you won't." Neru spun around as that same, cold voice was behind him, and got the shock of his life. This time, the owner of the voice was standing there behind him, a playful grin on his face, but cold, hard eyes producing an effect that was much different than the normal look of their owner. Instantly, Neru knew why the voice sounded familiar, too.  
  
"Son Gohan?!"  
  
Behind him, out of the corner of his eye, Neru saw Piccolo shudder, and then, in the faintest of gestures, shake his head. Neru took that to be a good sign; maybe the warrior still had some faint inkling of reality left.  
  
"Not Gohan... evil. Bad. PAIN!" Piccolo gasped.  
  
"Be silent! You know nothing of this!" Son Gohan, or rather, the creature that looked like Son Gohan, spat. Neru had had enough of the brief exchange.  
  
"I'm going to untie Piccolo... I don't know who you are, but try to stop me, and I'll destroy you. Got it?"  
  
Son Gohan shrugged his shoulders, amazingly, he didn't react angrily to the challenge... instead he cackled, and grinned at Neru. "Yes... I have been so hungry lately... since he left... and he despaired... feed me. Feed me more."  
  
Immediately, Neru realized that Son Gohan felt stronger, maybe even looked stronger, and was standing a bit more confidently. "What are you doing? Who are you talking about?"  
  
Son Gohan grinned. "Fight me. You'll lose, but you'll have the answers to seek..."  
  
Neru's response was to run towards Piccolo. He was halfway there when Son Gohan materialized between the place where Piccolo was tied and Neru. Neru scowled.  
  
"I've had enough of this. Who are you?"  
  
Amazingly, Piccolo spoke... and in a coherent sentence. "He is... desire..."  
  
Desire turned around and glowered at Piccolo before slapping him across the face, causing the Namek to howl in pain. "What? There's still a bit of you in there? I thought I had drained you completely... how dare you let me sit here, starving and starving?"  
  
He made to slap Piccolo again, but Neru grabbed Desire's arm and kept it from striking.  
  
"Leave him the hell alone."  
  
Desire turned and stared. "Good idea. I'd much rather play with you... instead!" Faster than Neru could perceive, Desire whipped his leg around and connected with Neru's right knee, sending him crashing to the ground in pain. The warrior was up in an instant, but in that instant, he was completely on the defensive as Desire, still looking, "And fighting!" Neru thought, exactly like Son Gohan. Eventually, Desire found an opening in Neru's defenses, and struck towards Neru.  
  
Desire might have been fighting like Son Gohan, but even a novice would have picked up Neru's feint, as the Nameksei-jin had deliberately left a hole in his defenses, hoping that his opponent would strike at that exact spot. Desire's punch met empty air, as Neru spun left and grabbed his opponent's arm with his left hand before slamming his right hand, a cruel fist with plenty of power behind it; into Desire's face.  
  
Desire howled with pain, and Neru kept his grip, connecting twice more before putting all of his power behind his fourth punch; this time letting go of Desire's arm at the precise moment he connected, sending the being flying across the room before slamming painfully into one of the rock walls that encircled the chamber.  
  
Neru dusted off his hands, thinking the battle over. "Huh. He was all talk."  
  
He didn't notice Desire looming out of the rock wall, crackling with energy and looking, amazingly enough, stronger than he had before Neru had introduced the creature's face to his fist. He did, however, hear him, and he dodged out of the way of the ki blast just in time, his vest swirling behind him  
  
"Heh. Surprised to see me again?"  
  
Neru shrugged. "Perhaps a bit. I'll just defeat you again."  
  
"You won't find it so easy... this time."  
  
Neru rolled his eyes. "Nothing in life is ever easy..."  
  
Talk was cheap, and the two collided once again, as Piccolo looked on. If Neru had had time to look, he would have noticed the Nameksei-jin shaking his head as vigorously as his battered body could.  
  
---  
  
Son Gohan landed in the grass, but even as he did, he senses told him something was wrong. He had been worried about his mother before, but in the short journey it had taken to reach his home, the worries had intensified. At the time, he told himself the lack of ki was probably his mother napping, but... Chi-Chi never took naps during the day.  
  
Just the same, as he turned to the left and his eyes widened in horror, his senses were irrelevant; the fact that the door to the house was torn off its hinges told him a whole lot more. Every inch of him wanted to tear through that door, calling Chi-Chi's name, but his instincts held him back.  
  
He didn't sense any ki, save for a smaller one that he recognized. He probed briefly, and was relieved to sense that it felt the same way it always did, but Gohan knew it didn't mean anything in regards to Diamaou's location. At least the Haiyaa dragon was okay. The small bit of relief he did feel was not enough to quell the fear that was slowly carving away at his heart.  
  
Quietly, he crept into his house. It was to his benefit that he had lived there for several years, as he knew every crack, every creaky floorboard, and every spot someone Diamaou's size could hide. When he had played Hide and Seek with his father, his mother had insisted they stop playing the game in the house. They had, but not before he had an opportunity to gain an appreciation for every hiding space there was.  
  
He didn't wind up exploring them all though, as he snuck into the kitchen and found it a mess. He felt the pounding of his own heart in his chest as he completely disregarded his previous plan to sneak around until he was sure upon seeing blood on the table. It was only a few droplets, and had already dried...  
  
...But he knew that a wound the size of tiny hole was still enough to kill. A familiar whimpering sound reached his ears, and he spun around, only to be confronted with the Haiyaa dragon, quite unhurt aside from its previous wounds... and a message on the refrigerator; a message that could only have been scratched out by Nameksei-jin claws, the scratch marks tinged in blood.  
  
Sudden rage bubbled up in him the moment he read the message, and in the blink of an eye, he was out of the house. The dragon was hurt that its master hadn't taken a moment to acknowledge him, but somehow, he had already sensed something was wrong. The woman hadn't been around to make sure he wasn't messing up the yard in some time, and even his memory knew that something had changed on the clean white service of the refrigerator, even if the dragon had known what it was, or what the symbols it briefly regarded met.  
  
Symbols, letters rather, that said,  
  
"You'll find your mother in the mountain cave to the north of East City...Hope she's still alive."  
  
---  
  
Neru crouched defensively, trying to get to his footing, breathing heavily. For the fifth time he had seemingly defeated Desire with the most punishing array of attacks he could think of, and for the fifth time Desire had risen from his defeat, looking stronger and more powerful than he had before.  
  
Scratch that, he had been stronger and more powerful than before, as the many welts, and bruises on Neru's aching body indicated. Despite that, the warrior had sustained far worse, and even managed a challenge as he rose to his feet, having been knocked to the ground by Desire's last attack.  
  
"Is that the best you can do?" Neru mumbled, spitting out a clout of blood (And a tooth, but he wasn't exactly paying attention) and preparing to go on the offensive again.  
  
"You... will help me reach my best... you are... very tasty." Desire whispered. Neru's antennae shot up in surprise; Desire evidently hadn't thought he would hear, but he was dealing with a Nameksei-jin, far from a normal opponent.  
  
"What is he prattling on about? What does this mean?" Neru thought, his mind racing. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at Piccolo, but the Nameksei-jin was unconscious at this point. Desire lunged at him with his strongest attack yet, and Neru chose to dodge rather than counter- attack. An instant later, Desire struck again, and again, Neru got out of the way of the blow.  
  
"Coward!" Desire exclaimed, looking truly angry for the first time during the somewhat one-sided fight.  
  
"I think I'm onto something..."  
  
Desire lunged at Neru again, and this time the Namek wasn't able to get out of the way, but rather than counter-attacking, he let the blow connect. It hurt more than almost anything he had taken thus far in the fight, but it achieved its desired effect; Desire was angrier than before. What was more, he appeared to be rattled.  
  
"Why won't you fight? I'll destroy you!" Desire exclaimed, his voice lacking the air of confidence that had been there before.  
  
Neru shrugged. "For a person who seems to be winning, you're pretty angry."  
  
Desire glared, and then smiled, reining in his anger. "Perhaps...But I'll leave you no choice this time! You'll have to counter this blow or be destroyed, Neru!"  
  
Desire cupped his hands, and a small ball of ki appeared in them... before it grew, and grew, and grew, expanding to the size of an orange, then a grapefruit, then a basketball, before it doubled, then tripled in size past that, so large that Neru couldn't possibly dodge around it.  
  
"Can I afford to take a strike like this?!"  
  
There was no time; Neru made his decision, digging his feet into the ground and crossing his arms in front of him. Desire seemed a bit weaker; this might be the only chance Neru had to make a difference in this fight that he had to win.  
  
Desire doubled his efforts again, but incredibly, the ki ball began to shrink instead of grow. "No! It can't be! I won't let this happen!"  
  
He fired; and a split-second later, Neru was in more pain than he had ever felt; his vest was incinerated, his pants didn't fare much better, and it felt like his skin was boiling. It was all he could do to keep his arms in front of his eyes; did he even have arms anymore? He realized he was screaming, but aside from that burning light, and the hum of energy all around him, he could barely hear himself. Finally it all ended, and Neru fell to the ground, not even wanting to look at his charred, mangled arms. He could barely move; barely feel, and if Desire was going to attack again, he was done for.  
  
Slowly, he opened his eyes, bracing for the attack... but it never came. Desire was lying on the ground several yards away from him, his arms wrapped around himself, sobbing uncontrollably and looking almost exactly like Neru; that is, completely spent and barely able to move.  
  
"D...damn you! I just wanted to... feed... On your will to win... As I did his..." The creature, no longer in the body of Son Gohan, but looking more like a shadow, gasped.  
  
Somehow, Neru found the power to get to his feet, this recent statement disturbing him greatly. "What are you talking about? Explain... and I'll let you go back to whatever rock you crawled out of to get here."  
  
Neru was careful to keep his thoughts neutral; he wanted to know what Desire was talking about, but didn't want Desire to think that he had won, and somehow gain strength from this. He didn't know that Desire gained his power from physical desire in this realm, and not mental desire.  
  
"Once you left... Diamaou... asked me... made me... tempted me... To feed off of Piccolo's desire to leave this place... it had worked until Piccolo... ran dry. He had no will... no desire... to leave."  
  
"You monster. What has he; what have I, ever done to you?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing... but I must live... Diamaou gave me power... let me feel some of his desires... I took the shape..." Desire craned his head towards Piccolo, "Of the one he desired... to protect."  
  
Neru didn't like where this was going, and neither did Piccolo, who had apparently been listening to the conversation, and had begun to strain at his bonds. "No... hate... won't let you...!"  
  
"Piccolo... calm down... or he'll get stronger again." Neru cautioned. He wasn't even sure Piccolo had heard him, but the Nameksei-jin remained silent. He turned his gaze back towards Desire, who, Neru noted, was still in the same shape as before.  
  
"Tell me what you mean... and I'll let you feed off my desire to let you leave this place. What do you mean about his desired shape?"  
  
"He means... to... take control... of the person whose figure I took... I don't know his name..."  
  
"What?! He means to take control of Son Gohan? How?"  
  
"I... don't know... let me leave this place now... please?" Desire begged. Neru sighed. "Fine, you're free to go... if Piccolo lets you. Piccolo, is he free to go?"  
  
Neru wasn't sure if it would work, but Piccolo had to take control of his subconscious again... had to re-establish himself. This seemed like the easiest way. Neru went over and released the Nameksei-jin's bonds, and despite his ruined body, Piccolo managed to stand. He didn't show any improvement... until he limped over to where Desire stood, and pointed towards a small, fluctuating area in the sky.  
  
Slowly, Desire floated towards that area... and as he did so, faded away into nothingness, apparently going back to wherever he had come from. In spite of Piccolo's condition, Neru smiled. Piccolo stood, glaring at Neru with contempt, but he hadn't spoken yet, hadn't said anything. Neru wasn't even sure if the Nameksei-jin could regenerate his subconscious the way one could regenerate a physical body... but now that Desire was gone, Piccolo seemed more relaxed.  
  
Until he stared at Neru and clenched his teeth, his voice lacking the confidence it normally held, but also lacking the fear. It was weak; a nearly dead thing, almost like a whisper.  
  
"What made you come back here... traitor?" He gasped. Neru sighed; he'd known this moment might come.  
  
"Things have changed... You can kill me if you want. Or get rid of me. It won't change anything." Piccolo raised his fist, as if to strike Neru, but then, stopped, as if a sudden memory made him hesitate.  
  
"Gohan..." Piccolo whispered. Neru knew what he meant, having been a part of the Nameksei-jins life and memories for so long.  
  
"That's right... we have to protect... Gohan... and stop Diamaou."  
  
"Stop my father... protect Gohan..." As Piccolo whispered those words, Neru noticed that the vortex and sky around him became a bit more stable; some of the rock walls surrounding him vanished, and the sky was returning to a more stable color. Neru couldn't help but be impressed. Somehow, apparently, Piccolo was managing to rebuild his consciousness... and as he did so, tap into memories that the pain of Diamaou's torture, his insanity...had caused him to forget. Then the stumbling block returned again, as Piccolo dropped to his knees.  
  
Piccolo cradled his face in his hands, before throwing them away from his face, looking up into the vortex, and screaming, "Gohan... I killed... Gohan!" Immediately, the change in Piccolo's psyche was evident, as the island around the two of them cracked and shifted with this sudden development.  
  
Even as Piccolo collapsed to the ground, shuddering and shaking, Neru had his answer. The final piece to unlocking Diamaou's puzzle; the key to Piccolo's sanity was one that only he could unlock, since the Nameksei-jin clearly couldn't, even with his consciousness unchained.  
  
"I have to go deeper... How the hell am I supposed to do that, unless...?"  
  
And then, Neru had it. The ultimate solution... the only solution. He wished he'd had time to think about it, but Diamaou was probably on the move, and any time could be critical. Still... regardless, he took five minutes.  
  
To a man about to give his life away... for the second time, five minutes could be an eternity. He couldn't help smiling at that reflection, as he left Piccolo's shattered consciousness behind... for the moment.  
  
---  
  
One minute was spent staring at the clear blue sky, as the clouds continued their intricate dance across the heavens, and Neru couldn't help but think, even smile, that one of the clouds looked a bit like some of the children he remembered on Nameksei.  
  
Two minutes was spent marveling at the wilderness around him; the birds, the animals, the plants... This planet's life was so strange to Neru, nothing like that on Nameksei, but just the same, it was breathtaking, the balance... the peace.  
  
Another minute was spent in quiet meditation, as he pontificated this course of action one last time. "Is this the only way?" He banished that thought, and called to his memory the images of all those he loved, and all those that he knew he might not see again for a very long time. It was impossible to tell what fate he had earned himself after his previous actions, but...  
  
The final minute was spent in a conclusion, a realization. Why was he so calm about this? He was sad, yes, but now he was... at peace. He tried to reflect on it, but as the final minute neared its end, then, and only then, did Neru understand.  
  
"It's because... this time you have a choice... and you're making it. And you're content with it... You know that... that... this is what you were meant to do, the way things were meant to be."  
  
With that final thought, he rose from his meditation. His new life wouldn't be so bad anyway... perhaps things would be different, or maybe... maybe... Piccolo would start to understand. He glanced over at Piccolo, who was still struggling to make sense of the world around him again, now that the mind-shattered Nameksei-jin wasn't being ruled by his instincts, his fear, but instead by himself.  
  
"I'm ready, Piccolo." Neru said, staring directly into his eyes. Piccolo, incoherent again, but not moving, didn't respond, and Neru winced. Diamaou's scars had to run extremely deep to put the Nameksei-jin under after Neru had supposedly rescued him.  
  
And then, for the second time in his life, Neru was bathed in a warm, blue glow... before once again fusing with the Nameksei-jin he had met while lying broken on his home planet. It was the only way, and yet it wasn't the only way. Before, Neru hadn't had time to consider the options... and now, he had. It was as simple as that.  
  
He fused with a smile on his face... but this time, the smile was more genuine. He felt warm... at peace... and content.  
  
In reality, he still had a lot of work to do, but he had resolved to depart the physical world with a smile on his face. The Saichoro, Dende, and all those he left behind would have wanted it that way.  
  
---  
  
Where Diamaou's scars ran, Neru's only choice was to dive deeper. He wasn't really in a physical state anymore, no more than a memory, another consciousness in Piccolo's mind, but as of now, he was the only consciousness that worked, as he dragged Piccolo behind him. The pain in Piccolo's heart, his consciousness, his very being; didn't lie in the Nameksei-jin's consciousness at all. Neru was taking a trip to a place that even he had never dared delve before, with the only comfort being the knowledge that someone else had successfully traversed the valley he had to cross, with all its potential pitfalls.  
  
Neru was diving into Piccolo's subconsciousness, with no clear idea of whether he; or Piccolo, for that matter, would come out alive.  
  
Or, if they did, if they would have any sanity left.  
  
---  
  
A Nameksei-jin opened his eyes, feeling like he had been beaten a thousand times over. He tried to rise to his feet; but they were stiff and uncooperative, feeling like lead. Grumbling, the Nameksei-jin rubbed them with his hands, before finally giving up on any sort of comfort and attempting to will himself to his feet, rolling twice in the soft, dew covered grass before finally standing up.  
  
Night bore down on him; a concept that was once alien to him but was now... a familiarity. He doubted he would ever become comfortable with it. Living with three suns and no night would do that to a person. Shaking his head and trying to work the kinks out of his neck, he gazed around. Where was he? He had a vague impression that he had been on a journey, but somehow he had wound up in this field... what was his name, what was his purpose? Most maddeningly... who was he?  
  
A quiet groan was emitted from the grass behind him, and the Nameksei-jin turned around, keen ears searching for the source of the groan. Finally, after hearing the groan twice more, he did find the source, pulling away the tall grass to find a man lying on the ground. A man with pointed ears, a sharp, distinguished face, antennae, and the greenest skin the man had ever seen. That is, until he looked down, only to find his hands the same shade of green.  
  
As if the man lying in the grass was the catalyst to his thoughts, the memories came streaming back after they had nearly been torn away. Who was he? He was Neru; loyal protector of the Saichoro, and, well, formerly at least, the strongest Nameksei-jin who had ever lived.  
  
"The trip through Piccolo's subconscious... did we make it? Are we... in the right place?" Not for the first time, Neru began to wish he had played a more active role in Diamaou's corruption. His honor never would have allowed him to do it, and to be honest, he was still glad he hadn't. Instead he was... afraid?  
  
A part of Neru didn't want to see the horrors that Piccolo had been subjected to; didn't want to feel the pain. Because he would know that he was the reason most of it transpired, that he had played a part in it, all for his selfish gains, that he...  
  
A groan from Piccolo snapped him back to reality, if life in a dream could be called that. Being reminded of what he had to do; whom he was here for, helped. As gently as he could, he hoisted Piccolo over his shoulder.  
  
"Shut up! You've made the sacrifice to get back here... you're here... focus on what you came to do!"  
  
A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions, now that his memory had returned... this looked like a clearing on Earth, but something was amiss. No animals were around... and the sun had apparently set recently; despite the nighttime stars, there was a faint glow on the horizon. This had to be one of Piccolo's dreams... But was it the right one?  
  
He felt Piccolo shudder on his shoulder, and then felt the Nameksei-jin's body suddenly go rigid, as if startled. Quickly he set Piccolo down, only to notice that the Nameksei-jin's eyes were wide open, seemingly unseeing until they focused. Frantically, Piccolo swiveled his head from left to right, before finally gazing at the stars.  
  
"No..." He whispered, before his whisper turned into a scream accompanied by raving. "Not again... I won't go through the pain AGAIN!"  
  
Neru frowned, trying to extend a hand in support, but Piccolo shivered away, not afraid of Neru in this state but obviously focusing on somewhere else; as if Piccolo knew what this dream held next. If that was the case, Neru pondered, then he was definitely in the right place...  
  
Or was it just a trap to mislead him? He had thought that things would be easy, but his the feeling of foreboding in the air reminded him that Diamaou might have more allies than just Desire. That was when he heard the screams coming not from Piccolo, but from a child.  
  
The screams were soon accompanied by Piccolo's, as the Nameksei-jin somehow stood up. "No...not again... Not again!"  
  
"Piccolo?" Neru asked, but before he could do much else, Piccolo charged and ran off into the trees as quickly as he could. "Damn it!"  
  
He charged after Piccolo, but somehow, the Nameksei-jin always seemed to stay ahead of him, as the child's screams got louder and loud. Ahead of him, Piccolo tripped over a branch, but scrambled to his feet, the trees around him suddenly becoming more chaotic, as wind whistled overhead. That was when Piccolo suddenly stopped again, glancing all around.  
  
"You'll never make it..."  
  
The whisper, borne on the wind, cut through the air and reached both Neru's and Piccolo's ears. It was of little significance to Neru... until he saw the effect it had on Piccolo.  
  
"STOP IT! I will make it... I will... I ... will..."  
  
But Piccolo's voice died down, as the screams on the horizon did, as if the Namek doubted the conviction behind his words. A moment later, he dropped to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him.  
  
"You failed... again."  
  
And then, the world was torn to shreds.  
  
---  
  
Neru wasn't even sure if he could call it a void. But what else could this twisted, black, chaotic place be? It didn't feel like anything he had ever experienced before; he felt chilling mist at one moment, and unbearable fire the next, yet when he opened his mouth to scream, no sound came out. It was all he could do just to keep his eyes open, his senses keen. He attempted to use ki to study himself, but found that he wasn't flying so much as he was being pulled along.  
  
He thought himself vaguely aware of things; Piccolo was there to his right, being pulled alongside him in the same torrent, but there was someone else near him on the left side, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him. To make matters worse, they were all being steadily pulled towards a tiny pinpoint of light in the distance; a pinpoint that was slowly getting larger.  
  
A pinpoint of light that none of them knew would hold, but that Neru was fairly sure wasn't somewhere good. He craned his head to the left, but whatever force was pulling him along made movement difficult. He strained and strained, but it felt as if his neck was pinned by something. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but for all intents in purposes, that was paralyzed too. It took every ounce of his strength just to move his eyes, as he glanced to his left.  
  
"Son Gohan?! Here?" Neru thought, but his thoughts betrayed him, and it was through that that he knew how to communicate on this journey. It was as if his mind had been opened, its curtain lifted.  
  
"No..." Came a familiar voice, even though Neru had met it only a few... hours? Minutes? There was no way to measure time inside Piccolo's mind and subconscious.  
  
"Desire? I thought you had left?"  
  
"No... I thought I had, as well. But it appears Piccolo's desire to protect this Gohan is keeping me here. I am drawn to it... And I cannot escape this urge to feed."  
  
"He can't do that..."  
  
"Why not? Why can't he protect this... Gohan?"  
  
If Neru could have groaned, he would have. "He thinks Gohan is dead."  
  
Neru could have sworn he sensed... exasperation in Desire's thoughts, and he feared what that might mean. "Then... we may find ourselves here for a long time."  
  
"What about this light?"  
  
"I am at as much of a loss as you are... But it appears we shall find out soon enough."  
  
Neru glanced upwards, as best he could under the circumstances, and saw that the pinpoint of light had become a sphere that was steadily getting larger. What was more, he could now perceive that it was threatening to envelope them all. He glanced to the right, but Piccolo continued to remain unresponsive.  
  
"Hmmm. So it would... seem... Waitaminute. Why are you being so cooperative this time, if you're back?"  
  
"Even I prefer to have free will... I cannot leave. Besides, you and he are the first beings in millennia to figure me out."  
  
"Huh. Does that mean you'll help?"  
  
"If I... Can."  
  
Neru was about to think his agreement, but before he could, he found himself blinded by the intense light of the sphere; and could at that point only observe, only comprehend, one thing.  
  
They were going in.  
  
---  
  
In the faint glow from the lava, Diamaou smiled; even as Chi-Chi and Kuririn drowsed in unconsciousness. The two of them were side-by-side and chained to the altar. His plan was working to perfection; the final plan, the one that would give him what he wanted most. He could sense it; the raw power, belonging to a boy that was coming near his location, if his senses were to be trusted.  
  
It was almost hard to pinpoint the child's location through that wash of pure energy, but Diamaou found it.... And frowned. Gohan was on the other side of the mountain range, and looking in the wrong direction.  
  
"Ignorant child... I suppose I shouldn't have trusted this to luck. Time to speed things along..."  
  
Slowly, surely, like a hurricane building up in force, Diamaou began to tremble... and glow.  
  
Behind Diamaou, Kuririn stirred, awakened by the massive ki he was sensing; the one that had now suddenly changed direction and was making a beeline... straight for the other ki he was sensing... the one in front of him.  
  
"Gohan... no... You're being led... into a trap..." Kuririn whispered, but before the man could come to his senses long enough to break out of his chains and possibly mount an attack of his own, keen Nameksei-jin ears had heard the whisper, and a sharp chop ended all that Kuririn saw, sending him once more into the land of the dreamers.  
  
Slowly, the cavern began to vibrate in the raw wash of Gohan's power. The child had to be quite close now.  
  
"Incredible..." Diamaou whispered, even as he prepared himself to do battle with the beast he had unchained. His body trembled, even as the cavern did due to proximity with the raw force of Gohan's power.  
  
Had he not planned everything this way, he might have had good reason to be afraid.  
  
---  
  
They had stopped moving; but Neru couldn't help feeling as if there were in more trouble than before. Beside him, Desire floated, apparently as helpless as he, and Piccolo was still on his right side.  
  
"Where are we?" Neru thought, but immediately wished he hadn't; as the thoughts echoed throughout the sphere they found themselves entombed in; causing pain not unlike the pain caused by an extremely loud sound. Involuntarily, he clapped his hands over his ears, and in the process was surprised to find that he could move again.  
  
"Close your thoughts..." Desire whispered, grimacing in pain, "...for they could be one's undoing here!"  
  
"I'll be sure to make a note of that," Neru thought, but this time he took care not to telepathically project it. He glanced around a moment to survey his new ally more carefully; in his natural state, Desire appeared to be nothing more than a living, three dimensional shadow, with balls of glowing blue energy for eyes, and a line of the same energy for a mouth; a mouth that was even now slanted in a line that had to be representative of a smirk.  
  
"Impressed?" Desire asked.  
  
Neru rolled his eyes. "Hardly." The Nameksei-jin was pleased to find that even in this state; wherever exactly he was, he was wearing his traditional fighting garb. The thought of his clothes made him turn to the right, realizing that Piccolo had not spoken or uttered a sound since they had realized they could move again.  
  
Piccolo was standing there, dressed in his standard clothing as well, but he was standing still, as if he were a statue. If Neru hadn't noticed the Nameksei-jin's eyes glancing around, he would have wondered if Piccolo were even alive.  
  
"Piccolo? Do you understand what's going on?" Neru asked, but Piccolo suddenly moved, holding up one hand to indicate silence. The tortured look that had suddenly appeared in his eyes would have done enough to spurn Neru to silence even if the warrior hadn't already indicated he wanted such.  
  
Behind Neru, Desire frowned. "I don't sense... anything in here... but hatred, and rage. There is a will here, but the only will there is here is to corrupt, to do harm, to... It feels as if there is a desire here, but I cannot feed on it, only... detect it."  
  
Neru glanced back at him and shrugged. It was then that Piccolo spoke in quivering, whispered tones.  
  
"Here... it all begins... here... In this... that is not mine."  
  
Neru opened his mouth to ask Piccolo what he met, but suddenly the interior of the sphere had gone pitch black, and a hoarse, cackling laughter echoed through the room. Slowly, the sphere around them began to glow, illuminating the room again. A quick glance around in the dim light relieved Neru for a second as Piccolo and Desire were still there, but someone else was there too. Someone whose projection seemed vaguely familiar, almost as if...  
  
"Diamaou!" Neru growled; and the room suddenly brightened again to reveal the demon, standing there smugly. Piccolo went on edge, shrinking away from him, but not cowering; and Desire merely placed himself in a defensive posture.  
  
"Yes... and no." Diamaou replied. "While I am here, I am also... there. Fulfilling my purpose; so to speak. A purpose that will soon be done; and then I can saunter off to oblivion with the three of you."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Neru barked; he had made no offensive move as yet, but Desire could tell that the warrior was sorely thinking about it. That was fine with him; it would just leave him to make the first move.  
  
He leapt forward, intending to drive his fist into their adversary's rib cage, but before he was even half way there, he found himself floating in front of Diamaou's outstretched hand, unable to move.  
  
"Admirable... but foolish." Diamaou grinned. "You see, I am the master here; even when your friend has managed to tear down all the good work I've done in Piccolo's mind. And I've no use for traitors." He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, and Desire flew to the right, smashed into the wall of the sphere with a sickening thud, and bounced right off it, careening to the ground and lying still.  
  
Neru tensed; his instincts were telling him now was the time to attack, but suddenly he wasn't so confident after seeing Desire defeated so easily. Maybe Piccolo could get behind him... He was off to the side; but was making no moves either. As far as Neru knew, Piccolo wasn't entirely himself yet; still battered, still grieving over the perceived loss of Gohan, and somehow distracted.  
  
"You can attack if you wish... it might be pleasurable delaying my final act until you've ended up like your friend over there."  
  
Neru glared, but made no move. "Why are you here?"  
  
Diamaou grinned. "Piccolo knows... why don't you ask him?"  
  
To Neru's surprise, Piccolo began to speak, but his voice was so dry, so dead, that Neru would have mistaken it for someone else had he not been watching the warrior out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"He is... the one who makes it possible... he is the tainted... the tainted... soul." Piccolo stammered.  
  
"His soul?" Neru asked, shocked, but Piccolo was not forthcoming with more information.  
  
"Of course, my soul." Diamaou mocked. "The final key to eliminating the last threat that could hinder... me. The physical portion of me, the living thing; gave me up... it was part of the condition; the only way to return to the world of the living and to enter Piccolo's mind. And it was the only way... to cover his tracks."  
  
Neru tensed, not liking where this was going, even though he didn't fully understand. Talking was better than fighting, at this point. "Cover his tracks? What are you babbling about?"  
  
The demon grinned, his voice tinged with venom. "What I'm saying, is that in a few moments, I will cease to exist... I'll be happily in oblivion... though I suspect the rest of you will have a problem with it. You see, I'm here to end it all... to destroy your soul, Piccolo's... and anything else that made it in here to oppose me."  
  
"Huh. You can try... but what fool would willingly allow the destruction of his own soul?"  
  
Diamaou shrugged, still smiling. "When you're immortal, having a soul hardly matters, now does it? All you need is a body powerful enough to wreak the kind of havoc you want to do once you've achieved eternal youth..."  
  
"Body? Whose? You've already got most of Piccolo's power in that body of yours that's out there in the real world..."  
  
"No more questions, Neru. It's time for all of us... to cease to exist. It's a pity you weren't able to get through to the only one who could get you out of this, but he seems... rather depressed right now." Diamaou gestured towards Piccolo, who suddenly dropped to his knees and began sobbing, images of Gohan flashing in front of his eyes.  
  
"No... Diamaou... you won't get away with this."  
  
"In a few minutes, I will have already done so. Pity my son can't seem to tell the difference between a dream and reality... if he knew that the brat was still alive, that this was nothing more than a nightmare in his own mind, then he might have been able to use the power within his own soul to banish me... this is his rightful place, not mine... but alas, it's that time."  
  
Neru lunged at Diamaou, hoping to stop whatever he was doing, but the demon had already snapped his fingers, once; and the sphere had begun to hum.  
  
"Perhaps a final battle then, for your amusement... you can't do anything to stop me now." Diamaou grinned; and immediately, he and Neru were grappling. Neru was truly angry; he knew that Diamaou was only playing with him, but his fighting spirit refused to give in. Through it all, Piccolo merely knelt there, still lamenting the perceived fate of Gohan, and Desire regarded the sphere weakly.  
  
"Diamaou's soul... it's collapsing inward..." He murmured, even as the world around them began to shrink.  
  
"What's... that mean?" Neru grunted, still struggling with Diamaou, who appeared for all the world to be treating Neru as if he were a child, holding him back effortlessly with one hand.  
  
Weakly, Desire stood up, though he had no intention of joining Neru against Diamaou; he knew it was useless. His voice was tinged with despair. "With our minds in here too... we cease to exist."  
  
---  
  
In the cavern, Diamaou waited, seated on a large rock and idly tapping his claw-like fingernails on the rock. The rock walls itself had stopped vibrating, but Diamaou could still sense the power festering all around him, getting closer all the time. Finally, it was time. He took a quick glance behind him to ensure that Kuririn and Chi-Chi were still unconscious, and then turned his gaze on the only entrance to the cavern.  
  
Son Gohan was happy to oblige the demon; he strode purposefully onto the walkway, not even stopping to care about the surroundings or the lava. His rage was hotter than the burning sun; lava would not impress him, and nor would Diamaou.  
  
"Diamaou!" The tone in his voice betrayed his rage, and Diamaou knew that he would receive no parley. He hadn't really expected one, but at the same time he couldn't help but be impressed, allowing himself a small smile. With this much anger, this much power; the boy would be perfect. If, he reminded himself, his plan worked. He was reaching the dicey portion of his plan here; attracting the boy had gone off without a hitch, but even he was not sure about the limit of Son Gohan's power. It was entirely possible that he could lose in hand-to-hand combat with the boy.  
  
The thrill of the ensuing battle was almost intoxicating; but, Diamaou reminded himself, the thrill of the power he would soon possess was even more intoxicating.  
  
"Diamaou!" Gohan repeated. Diamaou's only response was to stop tapping his fingernails and to rise to his feet to regard Gohan, as the child had already blown away all the smoke in the chamber with a sweep of his hand. It was a simple gesture, but an intelligent one. Piccolo had indeed trained the boy well. Instantly, one of his advantages had been whittled away, Diamaou noted.  
  
Fortunately, he hadn't necessarily been counting on that one, and his only response was to step away and allow Gohan's eyes to focus on Kuririn and his mother. It may have been against conventional wisdom to make the child angrier, but he knew what he was doing. At least, he thought he had before Gohan tackled him.  
  
"Monster!!!!" The boy shrieked, using the momentum of his lunge to soar up into the air with Diamaou between his arms, before sending him crashing back to the cavern floor, resulting in a Diamaou shaped crater. He grabbed the Namek between his arms and zoomed up into the air, intending to drive Diamaou into the ground again, when Diamaou began to start thinking about fighting back, rocking his head back and driving his forehead against Son Gohan's; knocking the enraged boy back and breaking his grip, if only for a moment.  
  
But Diamaou had speed to go with strength, and a moment was all he needed as he launched into a punishing series of punches, kicks, and chops, culminating with a brutal double-fisted blow to the child's gut.  
  
Gohan didn't even flinch, and it was only then that Diamaou began to realize that he might be in trouble; and that his plan had better work.  
  
"Heh... Piccolo's memories didn't lie." He stammered, about to begin another brutal attack. "You are indeed very pow- oof!"His eyes bulged as his voice left him, and he blacked out for a moment, before realizing that he was hanging on a hook; or rather, Gohan's balled up fist, which had slammed directly into his solar plexus.  
  
But rather then get smashed to the ground, or prepare himself for the assault he knew that was coming, he heard a whisper, as Gohan drew closer to him. "You're going to pay for what you did to Piccolo." Diamaou couldn't resist, knowing that if he could goad Gohan into making a mistake, just one, that he could win. Because all he had to do to win was get away.  
  
Diamaou quirked an antennae, and somehow found the strength to grin. "Am I?" He murmured. Son Gohan had had enough, and indicated as such, sending Diamaou crashing to the ground and coming to rest near Kuririn and Chi-Chi. Despite the ache in his body that said he probably had cracked several vertebrae, he seized his chance, using his speed to become a blur and settle next to Chi-Chi, holding one clawed hand against the woman's neck, daring Gohan to come closer.  
  
"Do it again, and the woman dies, Son Gohan!" Diamaou spat, hoping that Piccolo's memories were correct. If they were; then his plan would succeed; from what he remembered... fleeting images of a battle on the Nameksei-jin home world, then Son Gohan could not become enraged at will. If he could be calmed down, lose his convictions... then Diamaou was confident that he could knock him out, and proceed with the rest of his plan.  
  
Gohan hesitated, and Diamaou smiled. The power he sensed from Gohan was already beginning to wane; and Diamaou could read the fear in Gohan's eyes ever clearer, as the rage died down. Diamaou was sure that on some rational level, the child knew that Chi-Chi could be revived, but on an emotional level?  
  
Well, the boy had already lost one parent. He did not want to have to deal with the pain of losing another.  
  
"Stop! D-don't hurt her!" Gohan stammered; and Diamaou knew then that he had already won. "I'll do whatever you say... just... don't kill her."  
  
Diamaou smiled. "Boy, how do I know that I won't just put her down and we'll begin this battle anew?"  
  
"Because unlike you, I'll keep my word?" Gohan muttered. Despite the situation he had been put in, Diamaou could see that the child did indeed have courage. Perhaps not the courage to let his mother die; had Diamaou been in Gohan's shoes, he wouldn't have cared one lick about family, but the child obviously had stronger moral standards than Diamaou.  
  
"I don't believe you." Diamaou said casually, before turning and tossing Chi-Chi over the cliff. Gohan's scream nearly shook the cavern walls to the ground, as he flashed with ki, racing for the edge of the cliff with stunning speed; his face a twisted expression of rage and horror.  
  
Diamaou moved to stop him, intending to intercept him and snatch Chi-Chi before the boiling lava could claim her, but instead found himself suddenly frozen in place; for a moment, it felt as if his muscles were not his own.  
  
"No!" His thought became a hiss. "I need them BOTH for my plan!"  
  
As quickly as the feeling had come over him, it had passed, leaving Diamaou confused and disoriented until the sudden scraping of a shoe against stone brought him to his senses. That was when Gohan sprang up, supporting his mother with both arms. The hem of her dress was burnt, and her skin appeared red, but it was apparent that he had gotten to the woman in time. Which was fine for Diamaou's plan... unless he couldn't subdue Gohan before the child came to his senses. There would be no elegant way to do it...  
  
...Except for pure, hard pain, as Diamaou pushed his body to its closest possible limit in his most savage attack yet. Had Gohan been defending himself, Diamaou was pretty certain that the boy could have handled it; his blows had left him weaker then he would have cared to admit, but with so much of Gohan's attention focused on Chi-Chi, it was just the opening he needed.  
  
Gohan felt himself hoisted into the air, before being slammed into the floor face first. He mentally chided himself for letting his guard down, but he didn't have long to do so. His nose was broken, and he was totally disoriented, so much that he hardly felt it when Diamaou put his fingers and fists together and sent the child flying with a crushing two-handed blow to the back of the head. Even then, Gohan managed to stay conscious... But his last sight was Diamaou's foot flying rather quickly to strike him in the face, before two savage hands wrapped around his neck and deprived him of air, sending him into unconsciousness.  
  
Diamaou rose, with his face covered in sweat and his body feeling wearier than it had in a long time. But with the unconscious forms of Kuririn, Chi- Chi, and Son Gohan lying around him, it was time to begin; the sooner, the better. He allowed himself a smile, before walking up to the altar and placing the unconscious Gohan on it.  
  
Then he froze for a moment, a chill coming over him as he gazed at Gohan, lying there on the altar. For a moment, he thought he felt a presence that had once been quite familiar to him, yet somehow alien.  
  
He found himself a moment later with no explanation for why he had frozen, why his muscles had gone slack, before deciding that it really was nothing more than weariness. He regarded Gohan, whose face was contorted in defiance even in unconsciousness.  
  
"Marvelous boy... You did fight well. Thank you for giving me a glimpse at the power I'll soon possess..." ---  
  
The walls continued to close in, and Neru continued to struggle against Diamaou's grip. How much time did they have to live, to exist? Five seconds? Five minutes? Neru wasn't even sure how time applied inside Piccolo's very soul, but he knew that if they didn't find a way out soon, it was all over.  
  
Desire lay huddled on the floor, still unmoving, and Neru continued to thrash.  
  
Diamaou leered at him over his fist.  
  
"Surely you can do better than that... this is the last fight in your existence, Neru!" He taunted. But try as he might, Neru found that there was little he could do, but pray for a miracle. That miracle came in the form of, oddly enough, a window that revealed not the dark void that had been outside the sphere, but...  
  
"Gohan?!" Neru thought. What else could this image be; Gohan, trapped in a cave somewhere, with a look of shock etched on his face as he rushed to the edge of some cliff. Puzzled, Diamaou stared at it with the same confusion, but couldn't help but grin as the image changed. It was obviously from Diamaou's perspective, as the visage loomed over Gohan and the woman he had rescued.  
  
Even as they watched though; that wasn't the latest happening in the rapidly shrinking globe, as Piccolo looked up, and his eyes lit wide with shock.  
  
"Gohan?" He choked, scarcely believing it to be true. Gohan was dead, or so his senses kept telling him, so he had kept seeing, over and over and over. His shock turned to rage, as the child was brutally beaten, and strangled by two green arms... but the child's chest had a rise and a fall.  
  
"What... is this...?" Piccolo murmured, but the look in his eyes revealed not fear, but only clouded confusion, as if he were waking from a dream.  
  
For the first time, Diamaou appeared to be concerned, flinging Neru roughly aside as he marched up to Piccolo.  
  
"No... Son Gohan is dead... remember? It was your... your failure that enabled him to die." Diamaou argued. Piccolo looked confused again, and in that instant, Neru held the proverbial final key to the puzzle in his hands. He motioned towards Desire, but the being was not without wisdom; he too, thought he had figured it out, as they both remembered Diamaou's words.  
  
"It's a pity you weren't able to get through to the only one who could get you out of this, but he seems... rather depressed right now."  
  
"Piccolo! He's alive... Gohan is alive! And you have to get us out of here!" Neru shouted, prompting Diamaou to whirl around. Still teetering on the brink of confusion, but also on the brink of awareness, Piccolo hesitated.  
  
"Neru... what?" Piccolo stammered.  
  
But Diamaou had already made his fatal mistake, lashing out at Neru, shrieking for him to be quiet even as the walls of the soul rumbled and continued to contract. That was all Piccolo needed to see; confused as he was, he felt Neru was a friend. This Namek, whoever he was, was an enemy. Piccolo thrust forward with a chop; intending to beat the adversary off of Neru, but instead, his hand went clean through Diamaou's neck, severing it, and taking his head with him.  
  
A head which, eerily enough, continued to speak, even as the walls of the soul expanded outward like a balloon, before suddenly exploding. "NO!!!! Curse you, how did this happen? You were all supposed to... to... die, along with me! How...? How did... you see what my body... saw?"  
  
--- Somewhere, within the deepest regions of Diamaou's body, in his consciousness, the Namek that was known as Kami smiled. His last, desperate plan had worked, and now he only had to hope that he would get the opportunity to fight once more...  
  
---  
  
They were floating in the void... three of them, anyway. Neru stood staring at Piccolo, Piccolo rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, and Desire just floated there, watching the going ons with some interest.  
  
"Piccolo... what is going on?" Neru asked, but Piccolo had no answers.  
  
"Hmph. You tell me. And shouldn't we be getting to Gohan? From what I understand, my father plans to do something to him; and I'm pretty sure it isn't going to be a favor." The tone in the Namek's voice, more than anything else, excited Neru, because it was filled with annoyance, as well as the hint of sarcasm that made Piccolo Piccolo.  
  
Neru dearly wanted answers, and he dearly wanted to explain everything to Piccolo, but somehow couldn't. There simply wasn't time, and so he turned to Desire.  
  
"Can't you do something with his desire to save Gohan and get us out of here?" He asked. Desire shrugged.  
  
"Well... wanting to rescue Gohan is a lot more palatable to me than wallowing in self-despair at his death. I'll see what I can do..." He murmured, before closing what accounted as his eyes, and beginning to fade away, even as the world faded around Neru, and Piccolo.  
  
When they came to, they were standing on an island; but not just any island. A stable island formed of rock, with a purple sky. And though the rocks around had been scorched and scarred, the island nonetheless appeared familiar.  
  
Piccolo's consciousness. Without the maze, without the shattered rocks. An island, much like a person, which had become whole again with the realization that had been brought by being exposed to a dose of reality.  
  
Neru gaped, glancing around, but before he knew it, a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. Piccolo's hand.  
  
"I've been here before... and for whatever reason, I have the strangest recollection that I really, really don't like you, Neru... But we can address that later. Because it felt like you were... missing for awhile, as well." Piccolo muttered. "None of that matters to me right now... I'm going to rescue Gohan, and I need your help to do it."  
  
Neru sighed, too taken aback to admit to Piccolo what had been going on... but a tiny part of him felt happiness, just the same. Piccolo was asking... asking¸ not demanding, his help.  
  
"I'll... I'll do whatever I can." Neru vowed. A promise, shared between warriors... including one that was, for the most part, himself again.  
  
---  
  
Piccolo was surprised at the destruction around him, and the current state of his tattered clothes. He gazed around the wilderness, and then stopped for a moment to inhale the cool, clean air. For a reason he could not shake, though he felt as though he had just awakened, a part of him felt as if it hadn't experienced this for quite some time, which was preposterous.  
  
Or was it?  
  
"I'll explain all I can... on the way to Bulma's." Neru's thoughts echoed through his consciousness, and Piccolo understood. Piccolo frowned. He didn't want to go there; he wanted to get straight to Diamaou!  
  
He reached out with his ki, feeling... and found nothing. He didn't understand exactly what Diamaou had been doing in the real world, but he knew that his father had started this whole mess, and knew that he had been a puppet, and that his student... no, his friend, was in danger.  
  
Even without the possession, the fact that Gohan was in danger was enough to spur Piccolo on, as he rocketed into the air, buoyed with ki.  
  
But not before he crossed his hands over himself and gave himself a fresh set of clothes.  
  
---  
  
He reached Capsule Corps in a time that had to be a world record, literally dropping in; through the roof. The four of them, Chaozu, Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and Bulma were all convened in the very same recreation room as Kuririn and the others had been before, though Yamucha was covered in bandages and strapped to several IVs, and Tenshinhan had his right arm in a sling similarly wrapped as Yamucha.  
  
Chaozu leapt to his feet, fearing for his life but knowing he was the only one who could oppose this threat; by the surprise on their faces they all clearly thought it was Diamaou. How else to explain one dot on the modified Dragon Radar barreling over to another and causing one to disappear?  
  
Piccolo didn't even stop to acknowledge the four of them, other than to shake his head at them, snatch the radar, and bust another hole in Bulma's roof to accompany the one he had created on his entrance. He was racing against time, and he knew it.  
  
Instead, the four of them stood in shocked silence, staring at one another before Yamucha broke it.  
  
"I see Piccolo's back." --- Bulma could only shake her head, flipping her boyfriend (or was it ex- boyfriend? Tenshinhan and Chaozu could never tell anymore) the bird and screaming curses in Piccolo's general direction. .  
  
---  
  
The first thing Son Gohan was aware of was that his head hurt. That, and something was jabbing into his chest; something small, but nonetheless quite pointy, and therefore quite painful. He tried to raise and brush it off his chest, but strangely, found he could not, as he was tied to something smooth and made of... stone? It was difficult to tell by feel alone. Tensing, he tested his limits, and by swiveling his neck to the left and right, discovered that his neck, wrists, and ankles were tied down.  
  
"Maybe the altar I saw when I came in here..."  
  
That was when he glanced to the side and saw his mother lying right next to him, her eyes clenched shut, and her breathing panicked, as if her dreams were filled with nightmares. To his other side was Kuririn, looking almost exactly the same as his mother had, though the former monk was sporting a bruise the size of a softball on his temple.  
  
Gritting his teeth, he prepared to snap his bonds when he heard a quiet, chuckling voice in the darkness around him. How had the cavern gotten so dark, anyway?  
  
"I wouldn't recommend that if I were you... though the bonds are quite breakable, even you would not survive if you rose up and drove that crystal into your own heart."  
  
Gohan furrowed his brow and tried his best to raise his neck, just a little, finding that the owner of the voice; Gohan figured it was Diamaou, as he wouldn't have forgotten that horrible twist on Piccolo's voice anywhere, was correct. A sharpened shard of a crystal that he might have found beautiful was positioned perfectly above his chest, the tip of it drawing a bead of blood, for it was the small, pointed thing dancing just above his chest.  
  
"What do you want? Why haven't you killed us yet?" Gohan asked, as he felt rage begin to boil up in him again, as surely as the bile that rose in his throat, though he was legitimately worried about his predicament.  
  
No answer came from the darkness.  
  
"You have your freedom... haven't you done enough?"  
  
Again, there was silence.  
  
"Bastard."  
  
That was when the crystal fell, opening a more sizable gash in Gohan's chest, but grating off his rib cage even as Gohan gasped in surprise and pain. The wound was superficial, and certainly not life threatening yet, but it felt as if it was. In the darkness above him, Diamaou's face came leering in, one hand firmly on the crystal, for he was the reason it had suddenly fallen an inch or so.  
  
"Quiet your tongue boy... You will never be able to comprehend what I am doing. Know only that it will result in your destruction, and that of your father's..."  
  
Gohan continued to involuntarily wince in pain, but he shut his eyes tight, not wanting to allow Diamaou the satisfaction of seeing the fear in his eyes, when a sudden thought forced him to reopen them.  
  
Mockingly, Diamaou grinned down at him again, venom in his voice, as he was clearly enjoying every moment of Gohan's predicament.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Gohan glanced at Kuririn and Chi-Chi. "Let them go... I'm the one you want, right?" The words were difficult to say, for one did not easily agree to sacrifice themselves, but they were the words that he knew they would have said for him, and he knew in his heart that they were the words for him.  
  
To his credit, Diamaou chuckled, genuinely amused, before regarding Gohan with the most evil of smiles. Mockingly, he brushed a hand against Gohan's cheek.  
  
"Now boy... why would I do that? I have Son Goku's wife, Son Goku's son, and Son Goku's best friend, all in the palm of my hand... won't he be amused to find that I brought the three of you together for this, the final act of your lives? He might be almost as amused when he sees the body I face him in..."  
  
Diamaou's voice trailed off as he chuckled lightly, before placing his hand again on the crystal above Gohan.  
  
"You'll never get away with this!" Gohan shrieked, and Diamaou shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Now now, dear boy... I'm about to." Diamaou glanced beside Gohan, and saw Chi-Chi and Kuririn both begin to stir, dazed and confused. He regarded them with a smile, and even as Chi-Chi opened her eyes, she froze, though whether it was under Diamaou's evil gaze, or due to terror, Gohan could not tell. Kuririn's reaction was less subdued, as he took one look at Gohan before thrashing at his bonds, nearly breaking them before Diamaou gestured, and a crystal similar to the one keeping Gohan imprisoned dropped down and imbedded itself lightly in Kuririn's chest.  
  
"Let us begin... This body grows tired. I want my new one." Diamaou said, raising his arms. Kuririn didn't know precisely what was going on, save that the cavern suddenly seemed to go mad. Lava bubbled and flowed into the air, forming arches but somehow not splattering across the rock island, and the darkness of the cavern was illuminated with bright light from somewhere, as a chill wind whistled around his face; though no opening to the outside appeared present. Beside him, he felt Gohan tremble as the wind passed over him.  
  
And then, he felt himself in more pain than he had ever imagined, as a screeching noise seemed to emanate from the crystals above him, connecting with a ray of light from the crystal above Chi-Chi and sending that light flying into the crystal above Gohan's chest.  
  
But by the time he would have noticed it, he was too busy screaming in agony to care, with Chi-Chi and Son Gohan screaming along with him.  
  
Through it all, Diamaou watched... and waited. The screams tore across his sensitive ears, but he stared at them, surveying the chaos he had wrought, and waited. Though noisy, this portion of the ritual was necessary, and he had to be prepared to begin the final step at the proper time... or find two new people to fuel the burning power that could tear a mind from a body and allow it to enter another. He supposed the term soul would have been better; but, he reminded himself, he didn't have one anymore.  
  
That thought brought a sudden miscalculation to his mind; the ritual would not be completed for several minutes, before the next step was to begin, and so he spared a few precious seconds to do something he had neglected to do; feel the surrounding area for ki. He didn't expect to find one, but decided he had better prepare for the possibility anyway. That three-eyed man, with the strong ki, perhaps. Or the one with the long hair.  
  
There was a ki barreling down on his location; but as he sensed it his eyes widened with surprise, for the ki he felt belonged neither to Tenshinhan or Yamucha, but was nonetheless quite familiar to him, for it was his own son, and was neither insane nor erratic, but calm.  
  
He reached out with his mind, trying to sense the connection with his soul; but it was no longer there, and if it were no longer there, then Piccolo had either solved the impossible puzzle, or his soul had taken him to oblivion. Obviously, the latter was impossible: Piccolo was here, somehow... but how?  
  
"Couldn't very well let you occupy this fine body all by yourself, could I?"  
  
The thought was not his own, and yet so similar to one of his own, both in tone and in mannerism, that he could almost have sworn that it was. This was ludicrous; was he himself going crazy in the way he had driven his son mad?  
  
Perplexed, he sifted through his mind, searching for answers of his own. He was quite close to finding them, despite the outside distractions of screams and agony, when another distraction presented itself, and this one was far harder to ignore than the screams of dying humans; as Diamaou found himself snapping out of his trance and obeying his finest reflexes, just as a corkscrew shaped beam of ki whistled through the air and tore through the space where his head had been a moment before.  
  
After that, Diamaou had no more time to consult the voices in his head, and the answer was simple.  
  
Piccolo had arrived.  
  
---  
  
Piccolo knew he was in for a difficult fight, even as Gohan's screams spurred him on and as Diamaou dodged his Mekkankosappo. Though he wasn't about to admit it outloud, Diamaou still held a good deal of his power. What little Piccolo had had been augmented by Neru's power, but Diamaou probably still had the upper hand.  
  
He charged in anyway; with the advantage of surprise on his side, and the fact that Diamaou was focusing on something else, he pressed the attack. Power was not everything; and he had other tangible advantages to his credit, which didn't become more evident until Diamaou threw a Masenko in his direction, and he diffused it with a fraction of the ki Diamaou had used. After all, how could his father defeat him with an attack he himself had designed? It was his body, after all.  
  
Of course, the more he reflected on it, that was a bad thing, because he knew for certain that he, or rather Diamaou, would be able to take more punishment than he could. Which was fine; he just had to inflict more pain than he took. A lucky punch swept him off his feet, but he rolled aside and sprang back up. He could not; would not, allow Diamaou to go on the offensive for long.  
  
Even as he continued his assault though, Piccolo was surprised to see that Diamaou was getting increasingly agitated, as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. He kept glancing back to the altar where Gohan was lying, and in truth, though Piccolo had figured his sudden attack was making the difference, it had really been the fact that Diamaou's attention had been divided...  
  
The two of them found themselves grappling with one another, and for once, Diamaou had no room to glance back, as he and Piccolo were face to face, nearly nose to nose, with muscles straining on both sides, as each attempted to throw the other to the ground; rather unsuccessfully.  
  
Piccolo could see the hatred in his father's eyes, eyes that once might have resembled his own; black as midnight, but filled with hatred, and with little to no regard for life. Blood streamed from a gash in his lip, tingeing his teeth with purple gore. Piccolo didn't look much better, but instead of hatred, his eyes were filled with determination. And if Diamaou could have looked deeper, he might have been able to swear he saw another pair of Nameksei-jin eyes within Piccolo's, staring at him with a ferocity born by few in this world. It was then that Diamaou knew, as he saw another ferocious look behind those eyes.  
  
Neru was in there, as well.  
  
"You fools... You'll ruin everything I'm trying to accomplish!" He shrieked, pushing forward with a sudden fervor, driving Piccolo back a step. Piccolo ignored the creak that was most likely his back giving out with the force of Diamaou's frenzy, and dug his feet into the ground. Their faces were so close, he was tempted to lash forward and tear out Diamaou's throat with his teeth, if he could have afforded the opening it would provide Diamaou.  
  
His arms and muscles were taut, and he felt that they were about to give out; Diamaou was indeed stronger than he at this moment, but Gohan's screams energized him with a fury that Diamaou was finding difficult to match.  
  
He spat the blood in his mouth at Diamaou's face, which did little but to further reveal the horrible parody of him. "I'll be damned... if I'll let you... do anything... to Gohan!" Piccolo finished, meeting Diamaou's charge and throwing him to the ground, even as the crystal above Gohan erupted with brilliant yellow light.  
  
"NO!" Diamaou screamed, and lashed out at Piccolo with unbelievable force, using the momentum of his fall to pull Piccolo on top of him. Piccolo kept him pinned for the moment, but his hands were still locked with Diamaou's, and the movement had caught him off guard. The next thing he knew, his vision exploded in agony, as Diamaou, fighting with desperate strength, drove his forehead into Piccolo's brow, and under the force and impact of the blow, shattered the Nameksei-jin's orbital bones. (Author's note: The bones that ring the eye ^^;;;;; )  
  
In the pain that followed, Piccolo lost his grip, as Diamaou threw him aside, rushing frantically to stand in front of Gohan as the light of the crystal changed from yellow to crimson. Gohan's screams immediately ceased, as if the pain had been ripped out of the boy and he had been put to sleep, but Kuririn's and Chi-Chi's continued.  
  
Diamaou threw his arms to his sides and let out a shriek of triumph that echoed with Piccolo's cry of pain and Chi-Chi's and Kuririn's screams of agony; as the crystal pulsed once more, changing from crimson to a deep, violent light, but as it did so, a large crack opened down the side of it. The lava in the cavern bubbled furiously, as if itself disagreed with the unholy ritual that was taking place.  
  
"I've won..." Diamaou grinned, moments before light emanated from the crystal to strike him, instantly burning straight through his chest. As his vision faded, the life vanishing from this current form, he focused once more on the marvelously powerful body that would soon be his; the instrument for his revenge...  
  
...but a sudden movement crossed his eye as, looking like death, and probably feeling like it too, his son; the combination of two Nameksei-jin that was yet incomplete, with broken forehead and body, somehow found the strength and determination to throw himself in front of the beam of light between Gohan and Diamaou.  
  
The savage grin on Piccolo's face was the last thing Diamaou saw with his physical eyes, and as his body disintegrated and the ashes fluttered to the ground, Piccolo swayed and fell to his knees, eyes shut, his face pale; and blood streaming from the gash in his forehead.  
  
Gohan lay unconscious, while Chi-Chi and Kuririn continued screaming, even as the volume within the chamber decreased. Their screams were weakening, as the crystal above Gohan worked furiously to keep the connection between Diamaou and Gohan open, even with Piccolo thrust into the middle of the beam.  
  
Piccolo looked like hell, and most likely felt like hell, but he had no feeling, not even awareness of where he was. Piccolo had lost this battle; physically, Diamaou was the superior warrior.  
  
But this battle; the last battle, wasn't taking place in the physical world. Even as he felt his own vision fade; whether as a result of Diamaou's intrusion into his mind, or the blood that streamed into his eyes; he knew that he'd have his chance to win.  
  
With a last gasp of strength before he succumbed to unconsciousness, for he could not afford to give Diamaou a chance at his mind unguarded, he hurled what energy he had left at the crystals that threatened to take the lives of his friends, before returning to his own internal affairs. ---  
  
Lightning crackled; this was not a mind at peace, despite the solidity of the ground upon which Diamaou found himself. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was the ritual, and Piccolo's unexpected appearance... had he succeeded?  
  
A glance around revealed to him the landscape of the mind he was in... solid rock, with only a few cracks in it... obviously a mind of health, with solid footing. The sky was not chaotic, but rather a deepening purple that flared with several intricate points of light; stars burning with symbolic rage, signs that he could use to interpret that he was in the mind of a warrior, if you knew the right way to look.  
  
Ahead of him were several pillars of rock; had he been on the physical world, Diamaou mused, they would have almost looked like shards of obsidian. Here whatever they were supposed to represent was meaningless. He glanced around again, and then began walking towards them, the look of anger on his face betraying his emotions. For as he walked, Diamaou remembered, knowing the truth. This was not the innocent mind of a child... he had been here before, after all.  
  
This was Piccolo's mind, and what was more, it was almost in the same state that he had found it in when he had made his initial incursion into his son's psyche. He had suspected it during their fight, but this had confirmed it; he had not been doing battle with a madman, or one who was only partially in control of their mental capabilities.  
  
"Neru... I'll make him pay for this, since he's the reason things are back to normal."  
  
Diamaou sighed; knowing he had only lost time. All he would have to do here would be shatter Piccolo's mind, and then he could take over this body, and use that to recreate the ritual, force himself into Gohan's mind, and possess the most powerful body on the planet Earth; possibly the most powerful body in the universe, if the latent energy he had sensed when he was dead had proven true.  
  
After all, how hard could it be to conquer a will that had already been broken once?  
  
"No... I will not conquer it. I will destroy it! There were mistakes I made the first time around... mistakes that will be corrected!"  
  
Supremely confident, Diamaou strode into the circle of obsidian pillars. Quite obligingly, Piccolo strode out from behind one of them, looking the way he always had, but with a twist that had been long absent over the past days; a smirk.  
  
"You really shouldn't be thinking such thoughts in my mind... I could hear them for the last five minutes."  
  
Diamaou returned the smirk. What a joy it would be to attack Piccolo's mind directly this time, instead of slinking around the way he had before.  
  
"I'll be thinking whatever thoughts I want, son... it's your mind now, but soon, it'll be mine, and I'm not foolish enough to let you stick around again."  
  
Another voice emanated, this one from the pillar behind Diamaou, as Neru stepped out into the light. Diamaou regarded him with a sidelong glance. He was clothed in a long vest and pants; clothes didn't tend to matter when one was dwelling in the sub consciousness, but they could be a good way to identify faces. Besides, dwelling within the subconsciousness, one's tended to appear the way they thought they should. It had explained why Kami had appeared as a young Nameksei-jin instead of the elderly Namek when he had mounted his rescue attempt.  
  
Neru grinned, more laid back then Piccolo, but the sternness of his eyes revealing the distaste he held by now. "Huh. It only takes one act of foolishness to damn the fool."  
  
Fists were clenched, as Diamaou shifted position into one more advantageous to defeat two attackers. His cheekbones were high, his eyes narrowed, but he continued to return Piccolo's smirk even as he kept one eye on Neru.  
  
"You two don't really think you'll win, do you? For years I drifted through hell, clawing for my chance to be revived; and in doing that, I learned exactly how to tap into one's full power; to enslave minds... what makes you think that either of you has the power to defeat me?"  
  
Piccolo clenched his fists, raising his arms in front of him before relaxing the tension in his knuckles and assuming his preferred fighting stance. His voice was tinged with anger and confidence, but also the degree of wisdom he always carried into battle with him.  
  
"You corrupted me before... but not on your own... you convinced Neru to help you... I would have to assume that you were afraid to face me head-on."  
  
Diamaou was unwilling to give even an inch, determined to win in conversation as well as battle.  
  
"Not afraid... merely taking the most advantageous path. Besides, will this question really matter when you're dead? Let's begin. I have a child to destroy..."  
  
Piccolo's smirk faded as his brow furrowed, and his mouth revealed just a slight hint of clenched teeth.  
  
"You just threatened the wrong person, Diamaou. Leave Gohan out of this... this is between you... and me."  
  
"Don't I get a say in this?" Neru muttered. Piccolo tensed, but Diamaou relaxed his stance and smiled.  
  
"Of course!" He exclaimed brightly, in a bizarre change from the way he had looked a moment ago. A split-second later, he blurred from view, pouncing on Neru from above as a scream of, "You get to die first!" echoed through the landscape.  
  
Neru pivoted on one foot and managed to get partially out of the way of Diamaou's blow, taking it on the shoulder while cursing himself for being so smug. His shoulder throbbed with pain, but he was pretty sure he'd be dead, or unconscious, or whatever counted in Piccolo's mind; had he taken the blow on the back of the head. Even so, another blow swept him off his feet, and he was too busy defending himself to reflect on the situation again. Diamaou was playing for keeps; attempting to eliminate him as quickly as possible it made sense, since he was the weaker, easier target.  
  
"But not much weaker," Neru reminded himself, as he blocked a blow that would have shattered a lesser warrior's wrist and kneed Diamaou in the stomach, knocking him out of his attack routine, if only for a second. A second later Piccolo was there to help him, driving his elbow into the small of Diamaou's back, causing him to howl with pain.  
  
Diamaou had taken the blow on purpose, but now found himself in an awkward position with Neru near his feet and Piccolo near his arms. In other words, perfect for his plan, as he drove his elbow under Piccolo's ribs and kicked Neru across the jaw. The gesture sent him crashing to the ground, but the force of his kick had sent Neru crashing through one of the pillars of obsidian and, the elbow had Piccolo gasping for air.  
  
Always happy to oblige, he backhanded Piccolo across the face before driving his left fist into his son's abdomen. He leapt into the air, his left hand raised into the air, with a luminescent ball of energy forming above it, intending to blast his son to ashes.  
  
Neru pounced on him from behind, and in the ensuing struggle before he threw Neru off of him, he lost control, and the energy fizzled out of existence. The rush of air and a feeling of ki let him know what was coming; but just the same, he barely twisted out of the way as Piccolo streaked past him in a kick that would have broken bones had it connected. Diamaou blazed after him, grabbing him by the shoulders and using the momentum of his descent to swing and throw Piccolo to the ground.  
  
Piccolo slowed his descent before realizing a painful landing, landing deftly on his feet beside Neru. Like a darkened angel, Diamaou hovered in the sky, observing both of them.  
  
"He's too fast... We're going to have to attack him at exactly the same time." Piccolo growled.  
  
"Agreed." Neru said, and a second later, they both charged towards Diamaou with ki blazing from their arms; kindred spirits united in their cause. Diamaou remained ready for them, but at this point, neither of them cared; being ready, and being strong enough to weather the blow were two different things.  
  
"Predictable." Diamaou muttered, as the two of them streaked closer to him, before raising his own arms with his palms pointed towards the two of them, harmlessly deflecting the energy blasts, familiar with the tactic. Distract your opponent with the energy blasts, and then hit him while he's preoccupied.  
  
It wasn't going to work, for the simple reason that Diamaou had been storing power in his wrists and hands as soon as Piccolo and Neru had landed alongside each other, before pointing his fingers at them; two fingers pointed on each hand, one hand at Neru, one hand at Piccolo. He wasn't even sure it would work; but he knew it wouldn't be expected.  
  
The look of surprise on both their faces revealed that it had worked, as Neru crashed to the ground, a Mekkankosappo sized hole burned through his arm and abdomen, while Piccolo, realizing the danger at the last possible moment, had spun out of the way, a thin burn across his chest, but leaving him otherwise unscathed.  
  
Piccolo had no time for concern, as he spun away and unleashed his own Mekkankosappo; it had been his plan from the beginning, the look on his face belying every indication that he had known the plan would work.  
  
And missed entirely. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and chest, as Diamaou grabbed him from behind.  
  
"Careless." He whispered in his son's ear, before flying into the ground at high speeds, taking Piccolo along for the ride and using him as a shield against the cruel rocks and overall hardness of the ground, shredding muscle as rocks snapped and ricocheted off of bone, before finishing his attack by rocketing back up into the air and sending Piccolo to rest near Neru.  
  
"Good effort, but as I intoned, you're both hopelessly outmatched... I did not work so hard to have my plans foiled by those I have defeated before. It's time for you both to die."  
  
Piccolo rose weakly to his feet, injured, but not completely spent yet, as he spit out the remains of one of his shattered teeth. His admiration for Neru increased as Neru rose to his feet beside him, obviously more injured than Piccolo; it looked like his right arm was broken, and the burn in his abdomen wasn't very encouraging.  
  
"Neru and I were talking earlier, and I think we're in agreement... You don't hold a candle to Freezer." Piccolo replied.  
  
Neru, too battered to waste time speaking, nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
Diamaou grinned. "Freezer again? Then perhaps the two of you won't mind this."  
  
He dashed higher into the air, his face split in a grin, and with both of his hands raised high above his head as the landscape was temporarily darkened. The size and light from the ki ball he had seemingly conjured out of nowhere was so immense, it seemed to drown out all other light, even as Neru gasped.  
  
"I don't care if we're in your mind or not, an energy blast that large will destroy everything!" Neru shrieked, his mind racing furiously as he tried to think of a way to stop Diamaou before he threw the thing.  
  
Beside him, Piccolo nodded hopelessly. Even if he had been in condition to conjure up another Makkankosappo on the spot, it wouldn't have reached Diamaou before he threw the blast.  
  
He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light of the blast; maybe he could reflect it back at Diamaou, or perhaps a lucky shot...  
  
But he was too spent to move that quickly.  
  
A moment later, the energy blast simply disappeared, as a much smaller burst of ki bowled into Diamaou's shoulder, sending him crashing through an obsidian pillar of his own and resulting in the energy blast he had accumulated dispersing harmlessly across the sky, even as Piccolo's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"What the... Neru, did you...?" Piccolo began, but the look on Neru's face showed that the warrior was as surprised as he was.  
  
Growling, Diamaou rose to his feet, the burn mark on his shoulder already raising blisters, as he dusted himself off and glared at Piccolo and Neru.  
  
"I don't know how you delayed the inevitable, but I'll..."  
  
A third voice that belonged to neither Neru or Piccolo, calm and almost without emotion, but maddening to Diamaou anyway, cut him off, as all three Nameks turned, each with equal exceptions of surprise, but Diamaou most of all, towards the direction of the voice.  
  
"But you'll what?" The voice echoed around the pillar.  
  
"The hell?" Neru asked, but Piccolo smirked despite himself.  
  
"Of course... I wondered where he was." He murmured, unwilling to spell out the puzzle for Diamaou, and knowing that Neru would figure it out soon enough.  
  
A young Namek who looked almost identical to Diamaou; save for a face softened by kindness and not hatred, emerged from the third pillar, and regarded Diamaou, Neru, and Piccolo quite calmly.  
  
In spite of the danger, and in spite of the victory that appeared to have been snatched from his hands, Diamaou allowed himself a venom-laced grin, even as his eyes blazed with hatred, and his voice sunk to a hiss, but still loud enough for all to hear.  
  
"Damn you, Kami. How did you get here?"  
  
Kami bowed his head, smiling slightly. "You thought to have left my consciousness in Piccolo's mind... Did you forget that we were once one?"  
  
"We were never one... you were weak, like my son here."  
  
"You cannot blindly throw away the past... our minds are identical... and so, finding my way out was a snap, though I owe Neru for making sure that my consciousness found its way into your mind."  
  
"Clever. Am I now outmatched?" Diamaou murmured. Piccolo had moved to stand beside Kami, ignoring the feeling of revulsion he felt at once again having to fight alongside the god. Neru followed suit, stopping only to whisper a brief apology.  
  
Diamaou regarded them all with the coolest of gazes.  
  
"Every moment you waste is another chance that your friends could die... I wouldn't dawdle if I were you. And I'm still winning..."  
  
"What? What do you mean?" Neru demanded. Diamaou shrugged, eyes locking briefly on each of them.  
  
"Did you think passage to another body is free? Son Goku's mother and best friend are the ones powering it..." Diamaou looked away for a brief moment, and then turned back to look at them, chuckling.  
  
"Didn't you hear the screams? Didn't you see those crystals, those lovely crystals, pulsating with their very life force?"  
  
Kami's brow furrowed, even as Neru shot Diamaou a look of utter revulsion. Only Piccolo remained calm, stepping forward and beckoning for Diamaou to come; by rights, he could have well been the one to step back. Kami was completely fresh, and Neru had been in a much better state of mind than Piccolo over the past few days... In some ways, this was their fight too.  
  
But Piccolo had been used; and here Diamaou was, trying to use him again, because if Diamaou won, it all would have begun anew. The fact that Diamaou had wanted Gohan had a way of pissing him off, as well. It was time to return the favor.  
  
"You mean the crystals I shattered before I found myself here, Diamaou?" He taunted.  
  
Diamaou's brow furrowed in rage as his eyes blazed. His plan to enrage the three of them into attacking him mindlessly had been shattered. He regarded Piccolo with his coldest of stares, before speaking the truth that had driven him this far.  
  
"Get out of the way, you ungrateful whelp. You're just a failure... forgotten... a son I never had. It is only fitting that your last act is to return me to my former... no, better glory."  
  
"No... father." Piccolo spat the word out as if it were a curse; he would have torn the word out of his chest, had it been branded there. But there was no changing the past... or reality. "I won't let you toy with my mind anymore... Or let you use anyone else's. Quite the contrary... It is only fitting that your last act is to experience hell itself within the very mind you sought to destroy... After what you did to me, it's the least a good, loving son, could do..."  
  
And it was then, for the first time in a long time, Diamaou felt fear. Perhaps his son had not become as soft as he had believed... But he swallowed his fear and prepared himself, expecting to look up and see his son doing the same.  
  
Piccolo was already finished, and coming straight at him, with a grin so savage that it could have been Diamaou's own reflection in a mirror.  
  
He weathered the charge cleanly, sliding back a few feet but driving his son off the charge; stopping his momentum with his left hand and snapping his right hand forward, palm outstretched in a stabbing motion. He would impale his son through the heart right now, and end this!  
  
Except that his arm met only air, and Piccolo's cape, which he had abandoned in the attack. The move was nothing sort of brilliant; in Piccolo's charge and in his full regalia, the cape had shielded him from Diamaou's eyes for that single moment!  
  
Too quickly he realized his mistake, and attempted to do the one thing he could; get the hell out of there. Blocking was too difficult without an accurate measure of where his opponent was; countering was impossible since he had intended a killing blow.  
  
He had managed to get about three inches off the ground before Piccolo's right elbow slammed into the small of his back, launching spittle from his mouth, as a crack of bone and a cry of pain erupted from Diamaou's body as he hurtled towards Neru and Kami.  
  
Age went before beauty in this case, even though Kami and Neru didn't look that much different inside Piccolo's mind. Kami seized the advantage, booting the disoriented Diamaou into the air, before Neru sent him hurtling back down towards Piccolo with an elbow of his own.  
  
Diamaou hit the ground hard, actually making a Namek-sized imprint into it, his entire body feeling as if it were aflame. Harsh, labored breathing revealed what were most likely broken ribs. For the first time, he was facing the very real possibility that he might lose, and in doing so, he failed to realize the truth as he staggered weakly to his feet.  
  
The truth was, he had already lost.  
  
It only dawned on him as Piccolo reacted in a most un-common fighting tactic, charging full speed from behind and tackling his father from behind, driving him to scrape painfully into the ground before using his own Ki to propel himself forward and to take Diamaou on his wild ride, skipping across the ground, into major rock formations, and whatever else he could find, using his father's body as the buffer. Piccolo could appreciate the pain, as Diamaou had done a similar thing to him during the battle.  
  
The difference was, Piccolo did it better, and as a result, when he finally stopped, Diamaou was lying on the ground, scarcely able to move, looking worse than death itself. His forehead was a mass of purple, his limbs were fractured and at odd angles, and there were purplish bruises wherever he wasn't cut open.  
  
In contrast, Piccolo was only slightly dusty, and had already retrieved his cloak and turban before moving over to loom over Diamaou. Neru and Kami came to join him. Diamaou opened his mouth to curse them, but nothing escaped from the pit but a ragged groan.  
  
"It's over." Piccolo intoned.  
  
"You'd... kill your own... father?" Diamaou gasped. Piccolo raised his arm and would have killed him right there, had Kami not grabbed his arm and stayed his attack.  
  
Piccolo thrashed, struggling against Kami's grip, but the older Nameksei- jin held him back. "Wait, Piccolo! It isn't as simple as this!"  
  
---  
  
"Does it matter?" Piccolo snapped, breaking free, but appearing willing to listen to Kami, at least for the moment, though the fire in his eyes still raged. "There's no room here for mercy; old fool, he would have killed us all!"  
  
"That may be, but he sacrificed... no, sold his soul to come here... I have seen his thoughts... There is more at work than just he at this..." Kami murmured.  
  
Diamaou's only response was to laugh weakly. "Don't listen to him... slay me, son. Do one charitable act for your father and send him to the grave, kil-" Diamaou didn't finish, as Neru promptly swung his fist at the demon's temple, knocking him unconscious.  
  
Piccolo and Kami both turned to look at Neru, who shrugged.  
  
"He had it coming. Now, what were you saying, Kami?"  
  
"I am not sure... but if what I gleaned from Diamaou's mind was true, then he wants us to kill him..."  
  
Piccolo snorted, glaring at Kami with utter disdain etched in his eyes.  
  
"That's preposterous. He's just got that in his head so that he has a way out..."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because he's ME. He isn't even supposed to be alive anymore... he's dead. He's in the past."  
  
Kami sighed. For once, there was little mercy in his heart either, but he couldn't just let these lingering doubts slip away! There was a problem, he knew.  
  
"If he dies... it's quite possible that he could tear the rift to the afterlife wide open. He sold his soul to come here, as you said... that can have terrible repercussions on King Enma's rules in the Afterlife."  
  
Piccolo turned to stare Kami down. How could Kami be saying this? Diamaou had torn him to shreds, wronged him, and wronged those he cared about. Diamaou was clearly a curse that needed to be ended, once and for all, and if he had sold his soul, destroyed it, then all he had to do was kill Diamaou now and be done with it, forever.  
  
Kami stood resolute. "Piccolo, I FORBID you to kill him." Piccolo scoffed, moving ever close to Kami, clenching his fists. The two looked about to come to blows when Neru interceded, stepping between them.  
  
"Isn't there something we can do to him besides kill him? Trap him, somehow? Punish him, certainly, but the end result is that we need to be rid of him."  
  
Kami looked thoughtful. "I could merge with him... he and I were once one, you know."  
  
Piccolo rolled his eyes. "Can we afford to let you do that? You're almost as much of a nuisance as him, and it'd most certainly make you younger and more powerful... Possibly evil as well. He overcame you once in MY mind, what's to say he can't do that again in YOUR mind and start again?"  
  
"I am older and wiser than you, and as I said, I was one with him... I know his tricks. You could even say, in a sense, that he is me."  
  
"Feh. I'd almost rather he stay here... I know he won't defeat me again. He needed Neru's help just to get a foothold in my consciousness."  
  
Kami shook his head. "No, he might become too much for you to handle... he needs to be kept in check! He is beaten, but not disposed of... and until we find a way to do it safely... I'll have to ask King Enma about that... He'll have time to recover."  
  
Piccolo was about to respond with another outburst was Neru cleared his throat.  
  
"Kami... I am always here. If Diamaou has to remain imprisoned in Piccolo's mind until all this is over, then I'll swear right now to hold him in check until that time comes... I would not wish to see his evil again, and..." Neru's voice trailed off.  
  
Piccolo narrowed his eyes, harrumphed, and crossed his arms. "And?"  
  
Neru didn't know how to say it. "I need... a purpose. Part of the reason I did what I did was because I was a fool... but the other part was because it was unbearable. The life I had, the life I now do not have... Once, I was the protector of my people, the guardian of our Saichoro. Now I'm just a memory... a soul, sitting around in your head. I do not desire release now, I accepted this fate freely, but..."  
  
--- "But?" Piccolo asked. Kami chose to remain silent, not entirely surprised by Neru's feelings.  
  
"Well... You know how to look into yourself now. It wouldn't hurt to visit once in awhile, and... though most would despise such a task, I would relish the task of keeping..." Neru paused for a moment, tried to think of a word loathsome enough, but then glanced at Diamaou and nodded towards him."...Him under wraps. Keeping people safe from those like him have been what I trained my entire life to do, now that the Saichoro is gone... Perhaps I could become a new protector, if only for a little while."  
  
Piccolo didn't look convinced, but he didn't didn't appear to reject the idea immediately.  
  
"It would have certain benefits, Piccolo... remember, that this is not permanent. We can find a way to do away with Diamaou after speaking with King Enma, and..." Kami began. --- Piccolo started walking away, not even turning to glance at either of them. "I'm going to go 'wake up' now and see Gohan. Get out of my head, Kami, you've got your own body."  
  
Neru sighed, and glanced down at Diamaou. How like this it was before! Piccolo refusing to acknowledge his presence. He cared little for acceptance, but he had given his livelihood to assist Piccolo, the least Piccolo could do was alleviate some of the boredom, some of the pai-  
  
Piccolo turned around, smirking slightly, but the tone in his voice belied his seriousness. "...And you'd better kick his ass while he's in here, Neru. I don't want to hear anything about him being trouble when I "check in" on my own mind."  
  
Piccolo began to walk away again, but he could not help but smirk at the elation he felt elation in Neru's soul. Kami smiled at him, nodded his agreement, and faded from sight.  
  
The god did, after all, have his own body to return to.  
  
---  
  
Someone was shaking him. Someone with small hands... actually, two pairs of hands.  
  
"Piccolo-san? Piccolo-san?"  
  
"Hey Piccolo, c'mon now... wake up already..."  
  
"Hmph. I don't see why he should wake up, after he attacked me and played this little game..."  
  
His eyes fluttered, until they opened fully, only to see three faces staring down at him, one overjoyed, one showing mild concern, and the other..."  
  
The fist caught him in the forehead, with little power behind it, but it was enough to make him see stars, as it connected in the same spot that held his broken eye-socket.  
  
"Ow! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, WENCH?!" Piccolo shrieked, sitting up.  
  
Son Gohan's mother looked about to hit him again when Kuririn grabbed her from behind, holding the enraged woman back.  
  
"He's fine! He's the real Piccolo! Not the bad one!"  
  
"Bad one? They're ALL bad! And such language! Let me go, Kuririn!" She screamed.  
  
The two struggled with one another even while Piccolo rose to his feet, an annoyed expression on his face. "This is the thanks I get!?" He shrieked, and the sound of his voice was enough to make the two stop and stare at him.  
  
It was about that time, as his attention had been divided, that he happened to feel something clinging to his leg. Not surprisingly, it was the one person he actually felt like greeting at the moment. And that person happened to be blubbering; all over his pant leg.  
  
"Piccolo-san! I thought I'd lost you, it was..."  
  
Piccolo did his best to hide his elation at seeing his student, even if deep down, he did disapprove of the expression of emotion Gohan was displaying.  
  
"Hey! HEY! I didn't train you like that, did I? Did..."  
  
Another fist caught him in the forehead, similarly powered to the first, but this one held little violent intent behind it. More importantly, it connected with the other, less sore side of his forehead.  
  
"Hey, HEY! Yourself! You'd better not talk to my little boy that way, or..."  
  
Piccolo wisely ignored her, focusing on Gohan instead. His tone softened, as he reached down to pat Gohan on the head.  
  
"It's all right, Gohan. I'm back now. You don't have to worry about Diamaou any longer. It's all fixed now... I know you fought well."  
  
The child looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, but relaxed his grip somewhat. ---  
  
"No I didn't! I almost killed you, and then I'd have lost both my dads! If I'd beaten Diamaou, then..." His voice trailed off, and Piccolo's arm around him told him all he needed to know.  
  
Chi-Chi had no response. Kuririn had suspected the child held such esteem for Piccolo for the longest time, but had always though the Namek was more of a mentoring figure. And Piccolo...  
  
"Gohan, you can't be serious..." Chi-Chi murmured, still in shock. How could Gohan consider THIS man a father figure?  
  
Kuririn nudged Chi-Chi away. "I don't think this is the time to discuss this with him, Chi-Chi... The kid's been through a lot. If he wants to feel this way about Piccolo, then I'd say let him, for now... He'll, uh, come to his senses later."  
  
Chi-Chi's demeanor softened. She certainly had something new to think about! But first...  
  
"First he's bad, then he's good, then he's bad, now he's good again! Will someone please tell me what the HELL is going on?"  
  
Kuririn nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell you... let's get out of here, though. We've got a lot to talk about."  
  
He nudged Chi-Chi in the direction of the exit, casting a look back at Piccolo and Gohan. Piccolo's expression had changed again; his cheeks were tinged purple with embarrassment, as Gohan continued to blubber into his arms. But they were tears of joy, not of sadness.  
  
The purpleness in his cheeks deepened as he looked at Kuririn and Chi-Chi; both were regarding him still. He returned their looks with his trademark- annoyed frown, before looking down at Gohan.  
  
"Hey kid... I think it's time we get out of here too."  
  
Gohan figured it was as good a time as any to ask Piccolo something deep, something meaningful, something Son Goku would have gladly granted, but something he hadn't dared to ask Piccolo. Children did, after all, have to try these opportunities when they came.  
  
"Piccolo-san... will you let me ride out on your back?"  
  
Piccolo blinked in surprise. Normally he considered such things beneath him, and as Gohan could attest, he'd never pampered his student (at least, not openly). ---  
  
"Damn it... I've had my fill of "fatherly" things for a lifetime..." He began, but suddenly stopped, looking at the child's pleading eyes. Piccolo crumbled. He could always chock it up to not being mentally strong after his ordeal, he decided.  
  
Would it be such an embarrassment to do something tender for the kid just once? He smirked inwardly.  
  
"If I could throw myself in front of a blast of energy, I suppose this wouldn't be too difficult... at least that damn Kami can't see me while I'm in this cave!"  
  
"Sure, kid. But we're going to be training later. I have a lot of practicing to do, now that I've gotten myself back in the right frame of mind."  
  
"Can we go see the Haiyaa Dragon too? I bet it'd really want to meet you, and maybe you could feed it, and..."  
  
"Don't push your luck." He muttered.  
  
That was enough for Gohan to know he truly had his Piccolo-san back, even as Piccolo suddenly shouted across the cavern, his voice serious and tinged with mock anger, though he spoke the truth.  
  
"AND IF ANYONE TELLS SON GOKU OR ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS, I'LL KILL THEM! UNDERSTAND?" He shouted after Kuririn and Chi-Chi.  
  
Gohan giggled, Chi-Chi remained silent, and Kuririn simply continued walking, a slight look of relief on his face.  
  
Things were back to normal. ---  
  
Mr. Popo sighed. He'd had little reason to suspect that a change in Kami's condition was coming, but as he stood over the stove and took the boiling, screeching teakettle off of it, he decided to check on Kami anyway. Perhaps the aroma of the Orange Pekoe, a brew that even Kami himself enjoyed at times, just might bring him around.  
  
Just the same, Popo's face remained etched in the same worried frown that had dominated it for the past few hours as he exited the kitchen with a cup of the steaming drink in his hand.  
  
"Maybe I should check on Son Gohan and see how the others are progressing..."  
  
--- He decided he should check on Kami first. The man was, after all, his responsibility. It would be best to leave Gohan and the others to theirs.  
  
Popo rounded the corner, expecting to see Kami still unconscious, lying upon the futon that he had prepared for the god. Instead, he wound up forgetting about the tea entirely as he ran up to the futon, having found it empty. Panic gripped him. Had Diamaou come while he was away, and snatched his other half? Or worse...  
  
Kami emerged from a pillar behind him, even as Popo stood staring at the futon in shock, still holding the cup of tea.  
  
"I say, Mr. Popo, is that for me?"  
  
Popo gladly would have surrendered the tea, but at the sound of the voice behind him, spun around in startled surprise, accidentally sending the cup flying across the lookout, only to shatter against the tile, as his eyes gazed upon his lord and master.  
  
"Kami-sama!" He exclaimed, dashing over and nearly knocking the elder off of his feet as he embraced him, before remembering his position and releasing him. Though one of his previous Kami's might have scolded him for such a display of reaction, he was met only with Kami's chuckling, as the god leaned on his staff.  
  
"Good to see you too, Popo, my friend. Now, I say again, though I'm not sure I'm inclined to ingest that cup all over the floor, is there any tea for me? I would much rather commune to meet with King Enma when I'm not parched with thirst."  
  
Popo smiled, more than happy to perform his life's duty and serve. "Certainly, Kami-sama. What happened? Is Diamaou defeated?"  
  
Kami motioned towards the kitchen, patting Mr. Popo on the back.  
  
"Rest assured, Mr. Popo, what I have to say will sound much better over some tea. You should have some yourself, you look rather fatigued."  
  
"But the spill..."  
  
Kami laughed. "Always worried about duty, Mr. Popo... don't worry. You can get it later..."  
  
Finally acquiescing, Popo returned to the kitchen, with Kami following behind, accompanied only by the sound of wooden staff clinking on stone.  
  
---  
  
Diamaou groaned and rose weakly to his feet. Where was he? His head throbbed, and the rest of him didn't feel much better. He gazed around, and realized that he was still alive; that he still existed. He snorted. That had not been part of his backup plan, and here as he was, he could not take his own life, to leave the door to the afterlife open, and thus satisfy the plan of the one who had helped him to arrive in the first place.  
  
He didn't entirely agree with it, but it was the other part of the pact he had made to get into the living world. At least he could begin again, though this time he would have to destroy Piccolo's consciousness rather than imprison it, a much more complicated task. After all, he didn't have much of a soul to work with anymore.  
  
"Heh... fools... do they really think I can't take over Piccolo again? Can you hear me, son? I'm coming to get you!" He shouted into the void, but the small, rocky island he was imprisoned on, though definitely part of Piccolo's consciousness by the calm, purplish hue of the sky, remained silent.  
  
It was time to look for a way to escape, as he was confident that Piccolo thought he could control him through careful meditation and the mental fortitude that made up his prison.  
  
The sound of a whistle alerted him to spin around, as he turned and saw Neru standing in front of him. Diamaou's eyes widened, and then he grinned.  
  
"So in the end, Piccolo decided to punish you, eh? It's no problem... we can work together again, Neru."  
  
Neru's eyes narrowed. "Not quite. You may consider me your new prison warden."  
  
"You really think you can hold me, Neru?"  
  
The former protector of Nameksei grinned savagely. "I was hoping you'd say that. You see, I'm not as different from Piccolo as you might think... Let's go."  
  
--- The two began. It was to be a disappointing fight for Diamaou in a day filled with disappointments, as Neru defeated him rather handily, always being one to keep his promises...  
  
--- Piccolo lay on the grass, staring up at the sky. Stargazing was stupid, he reminded himself, not for the third time. But after speaking with Neru, and after considering his own struggles when he hadn't even been in command of his body, let alone his mind, he found a certain appreciation for the things he had once taken for granted, even as a cool breeze rustled through the grass.  
  
Beside him, nuzzled snug and secure in Piccolo's own cape, was Gohan, who found he was resting on a rather comfy, living pillow. The Haiyaa dragon, it's wounds nearly healed, slept peacefully, enjoying the rather human blanket as much as the child was enjoying the rather dragonish pillow.  
  
He sensed the struggle between Diamaou and Neru inside himself, but shrugged it off, certain that Neru would win. He shifted his gaze from the stars to Gohan. The child was snoring contentedly, likely dreaming of his other father, the one that was somewhere out in the vast universe.  
  
The gentle sound of Gohan's breathing, and the somewhat larger sound of the Haiyaa Dragon snoring somehow conveyed the sense of peace he felt. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and went to sleep.  
  
There were no dreams, and more importantly, no nightmares, but only peaceful slumber.  
  
The End  
  
Well, it's done. I realize this chapter and chapter 7 were incredibly long, but I had determined that it was time to buckle down and get this thing done rather than have people wait six months for each chapter. Hope it was enjoyable. ^^ -Cremrock 


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